Tactile Image

sometimes it’s
so close
it can
be sensed

the image
dissolving into
the solvency
of essence

the stylus
etches its
way through
a labynrith

of dreams
enveloped in
possibilities yet
to be

we are
what we
sought to
become but

the mirror
knows what
is yet
to be

Listen

to see
is to
know

to listen
is to
sense

the essence
of
silence

Where

where
if not here

why
if not now

are we
the one
we know

what rests between
what is and
what is not

a void to
be filled when
emptiness contains all
that can be held
but not possessed

how will you know
when the last word
will be heard

Effigy

as this
is written
an image
fades into
an opaque
transparency

a gray
countenance gazing
at the
possibility of
transcendance into
the fixed
aura of
redemption where
despair clings
to words like
a sodden
mossy blanket
suffocating
light

what devours
commands the
transient hour
molding light
into a
graven image
whose likeness
is found
in mirror
shadow
and crag
etched into a
mottled wall