Not noteworthy


The world is in slow-motion now.
Even the light doesn’t travel fast enough
To reach through the wet leaves
And the earth’s sponge is soft.
It swallows sound’s edges
As there is no differentiation for raindrops
In this perpetual hush.
Man moves through time dreaming
Or is it disembodied
As the fire has gone out
And even tobacco won’t stay lit
And strangers have no horizon
In this land of no-man.
I wonder where the birds hide their songs
When to open their throats would be
To defy gravity, to deny the grey blanket
That muffles motion.
Is this a practise for endings when
Not with any brilliance but a whimper
Another day fades without note?

Source: Not noteworthy


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