I step outside and see the lightning.
It is dry, there is no formal resound
of thunder, only a pulse of light
dancing with itself among the molecules
of this steamy atmosphere where rain once fell.
There is no more awe of air
or all that happens above my pay grade.
Only the grave sight resignation
that much beyond my porch
is far from my control.
I have walked among both
the rain drops and the tombstones.
I am touched by neither;
they have become oddities to me.
Water, undrinkable comes from above,
eroding the stone reminders
of a person once living forgotten,
now decaying ‘neath the marker,
‘cept by etching remembered.
Such is my own plan,
to be undrinkable
to be unremembered.
My own nothingness will be
a solace for my soulless being.
The lightening glows
for a moment
then disappears
I do like the way of quiet lightening.
© M Durfee
7/28/16
(2) 12/2020
Editing is a chore, a tedious, but necessary, undertaking. I am determined to get some of my shit edited even if...well I am determined. God bless you all, near and far, healthy and not, freedom loving or not.
1 more year ought to see us through the pandemic not the editing!
Editing is a chore, a tedious, but necessary, undertaking. I am determined to get some of my shit edited even if...well I am determined. God bless you all, near and far, healthy and not, freedom loving or not.
1 more year ought to see us through the pandemic not the editing!