Fruition Ignition Cognition

And now my lungs are empty,
no comforting words to spill
Like tattered curtains of memory
which brush your window sill
And scatter dust like glittered galaxies
of miniscule design
across the universe that forms your room,
apparently benign
But littered yet with trip or fall
or lurking dark desire

And having crossed they come to rest
where skirting meets the wall
and there do set about the task
of conquering the house
Emissaries with powder keg and secret atom ray
Sent to calculate the neighbours
to seed their tongues and sandalwood smiles
with decadent behaviour
and then below the bowl of sky
to blow those motes asunder

And passing wheels swish the shaker’s hat
in black benevolence bedecked
the brass, the box, the candles shocked
to feel the passing wind’s neglect
where words are spend in careful pain
on the ciphered days that lie ahead
they circle the ritual wreck, the wooden heart,
the eyes that here were wed
and feet will walk the sidewalk cracks
numb become uneven.