Flux (Poetry)
#5 of Miscellaneous Works
More poetry. Tried experimenting with having four syllables per line for some reason: I thought it had an interesting effect.
The banks empty:
Lost, forgotten.
There never was
Anything there.
Could I step once
Over that mount?
Like the prophet,
I fear I won't.
Ends are certain.
The middles, not.
That is a truth.
Or so I'm told.
I grow too old.
And yet I'm young.
'Tis paradox.
One dear to me.
If life is flux
And I water,
Then why do I
Now seem to drown.