[ Windy House ]
09 September 2023
It was there,
Though I didn't know
It was there.
For me,
It was merely an edge,
A sunken surface,
A wrinkle in the street.
When its skin was swept away,
and the wind flowed between the bones,
Perhaps life exited,
I thought.
I often visit the scrawny fossil
Where the sunlight bends upon its elbow,
And rain trickles down the nape of its neck,
Until I glimpse my faint reflection
In the puddle beneath the feet
Where sound gathered.
One day,
The wave will reach there,
Cutting off the blank,
And accumulating things I can’t fathom.
With every rise and fall of the moon,
The wave will drag the void in and out.
As time passes, will I recall that bare essence?
What will remain of the landscape captured by engraving strata in the air?
It was full of wind,
In the empty house.
09 September 2023
It was there,
Though I didn't know
It was there.
For me,
It was merely an edge,
A sunken surface,
A wrinkle in the street.
When its skin was swept away,
and the wind flowed between the bones,
Perhaps life exited,
I thought.
I often visit the scrawny fossil
Where the sunlight bends upon its elbow,
And rain trickles down the nape of its neck,
Until I glimpse my faint reflection
In the puddle beneath the feet
Where sound gathered.
One day,
The wave will reach there,
Cutting off the blank,
And accumulating things I can’t fathom.
With every rise and fall of the moon,
The wave will drag the void in and out.
As time passes, will I recall that bare essence?
What will remain of the landscape captured by engraving strata in the air?
It was full of wind,
In the empty house.