Harmonics of life.

I am at the edge of the piano The dark edge of the encasement. I linger at the tough end of the wedge And hint in my tiny voice Of my enlightenment. This is in stark contrast To the woodland of youth. The long felled concrete jungle Where I cut my health. Nothing is black … Continue reading Harmonics of life.

The Why, and any Future?

Perhaps everything is nothing, So nothing can be explained There is nothing to be contained, Encapsulated or Divine. Who can tell? Who could ever tell, and so saying, In that very telling , Give us a solution for The Why? Well the chasm to that is deep, Like as if it is a trough of … Continue reading The Why, and any Future?

Pointer of Time

There is The Continuum, It spites with a flare All who ignore. Do not be ignited. There is a theory of string With which to counter. Use it like you would a caldron of fire Wherein you host all your desires. Take heed of the books of texts, Conceal within your concentrate of life The … Continue reading Pointer of Time

At the Edge of My Wit

This poem is a re-blog, which is presented again as an opportunity for those who missed it to discover the piece. Have a great day. Chris T. Instinct tells me This is worsening. I have ventured previous With you in the laughter lane. At times with such joy all was good. And at other times, … Continue reading At the Edge of My Wit