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