Settlement
The bubble in the level's glass behaves
As if moon-drawn and plaster-cracks, like veins,
Bleed dust. The creaking fabrication strains
Against itself. The twisted architraves,
Cracked window-frames and badly hanging doors,
Working on some ad hoc isotonic basis
Oppose themselves to rest in stasis
With bulging walls and oddly sloping floors.
So this is settlement, a compromise
Where forces counteract and cancel out,
Whereby the castle in the sky defies
The pull of gravity and faith trumps doubt.
While deep below the cross beams rot and split
We float above the darkness of the pit.
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Comments: 24
We wake and rest still dry, not wet
Amazing poetry, Mike.
Heartiest Congratulations !!
And Merry Christmas dear Friend !!!
And being more than fifty, it also applies to me.
Nature hates a vacuum...and will clean itself up, only to build again.
Beautiful...
The words, balance, and the surprise at some of the choices made this a gem of a read.
Blessings, sir. Congrats on your win.
Wilka (In physical stasis!)
But more important, form without function and thought is just form. Here you have created a meaningful journey. I have come to see that everything in life has a balance.