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deluge iii
pillaged by passion,
the temple of thought
became a ruin of words.
ideas are broken
like ancient statues,
losing their promise
of glory,
their meanings crumbling,
their marble pockmarked
by time,
shadow staring blankly
from their empty eyes,
their arrogance embittered
by dust,
the only intimacy left
in the inevitable.
fragments are strewn
in dreams
waiting to be excavated
like missing pieces
of a puzzle
that can never be finished.
but the enigma
remains intact in the tomb,
protected by angels
from forgotten heavens,
hovering in the passing wind.
words finally lose
their mooring in meaning,
and wander restlessly,
bricks from the babels
of the past
unable to build a future.
silence corrodes
them completely.
the novel thought
becomes a blunder,
true faith
betraying itself.
oblivion sinks its teeth
into the carrion
of consciousness.
death has shown
its primordial wisdom,
loss its fury.
one must have a clear memory
of fate
to have an afterlife.
deluge iv
the infinite faded
into a skyline of feeling,
drugging words
with innocence,
deluding them
into timelessness.
then the clouds settled,
crumbling the buildings
into mist.
the city became an emporium
of emptiness.
deluged by shadow,
it lost breath,
becoming a mirage
able to give meaning
to meaninglessness.
