Lost Koinonia

Empty, forgotten, hollow years,
Void of content and contact.
Tearless years, with no plans or passion,
Emotionally bankrupt.
Nostalgic ghosts flailing no substance,
Holding no promise for the future.

Wordless worlds,
Eschewing responsibility of naming,
A non context of drivel,
Like spittle from an aged mouth,
Gurgling, sounding, but never settling.
The rest is silence.

Let them die.
Turn sunwards to an oily dawn,
Fleeing the bony grasp of broken dream.

“Redeem the time. Redeem the unread vision in the higher dream.”


About thechildanimalpoetandsaint

I am a runner and a preacher...
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