The Lamp
(12/11/2015)Lamp that burns
Worse; let itself badly burn
An object with purpose attached
When it lays its function wide
Thanks to that after-effect
Meaning the beloved is dominated
Against its will – for its greater will
Forming thick, floating in the air
Beyond my attainment;
With eyes teary, until they crash
It’s ecstatic drum-slates, to each jumps
Miniscule testing evidence
Damn hard-head it is;
Born out of red bright substance
Dance of death closest, by the shore?
Or is it rather denier, who lies,
About coiling facts that shatter that fragile
Piece of commemoration?
So please don’t forget
More importantly, the way the wind blows
Ground soaked in swept objects
Your laying dare insistence
causes the hidden to be found
In a way unsupposed
To original of their own;
Thanks for long endurance
For generations past and to come
We’re left to face - alone
The fire dies out
And it is no more