October 13, 2022•122 words
In Limbo (abiding Limbo) I hold fast to my pillow,
Like a child to mother, taking in all inanimate
Comforts my starved heart & soul go on imagining.
The weight of all that's unread, left sealed
Mocks the possibility that my life may continue;
To have Held High to crumble to Hold High again
Will synchronize Terror & Disbelief (—acrobat muses
To the subject of all these dealings,)
When the crumbling-sensation grows again.
Fated to wait & see what 'fate' could ever be.
How I feel that I know that there's all gone
The Love of this world—
Died with my heart some years passed.
But fate, a lofty myth maybe, we know well
Finds its fuel in showing certainty more false.