Between The Dreadful Drafts

This life, desensitized
Literally degenerates,
Off-track, astray
Guided by Entropy Almighty
Under mechanical grinders
Of Time.

Does it dilute on purpose ?
Does it have, eventually, not to be
Anyone left to see it has stopped flowing ?

Disappearing, inescapable solution,
For the one who has become
Not enough to hope for any other way out.

Untied bundle of dirty branches …
Tell me what’s left that can be bound together ?

On the back of this lotion of sadness
Lies a ticket for wisdom
Written in the language of truth.

And your pretty, lined-up knots
On the burden of branches
Keeping them from kissing
The earth and streaming rains,

How beautiful they appeared
On the top of your shoulders,
Such an appealing package…

Now, it is finally nothing
Between two drafts
Of dreadful winds.

Franck Joseph
©FJ March 2021- All rights reserved
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