VIII

Days die by dismal decimals,

As emptiness marks the slow erosion

In grams of silence,

Edging unemerging embryos

Into vast vacuums of time imprisoned

In its irretrievable dimension.

What immense impediments

Have imposed the void

Of days doomed to darkness

Where works perish because

They never were?

I pause ---

Dwarfed by the argument

Of all that might have been

But has no hope to be - - -

For those moments ---

Those brief echoes from within,

Like some faint sounding fall of water

Shaping floors of undiscovered caverns ---

Faint decibels punctuating time

In minute condensations ----

Faint soundings, unrecorded and unknown,

Are lost in those delicate labyrinths

Of the past

Forevermore

And like the past

Are nevermore.