The Vanishing – a poem

Slowly, love rises
Not from the  ashes of a fiery blaze
Nor the blood stained sword
of the conqueror
But rather, love can be observed
Dancing among the mysteries
Peeled from tablets of revelled
papyrus
Left behind by a distant memory
Long washed by the tears of an
ebbing moon
As the withered tree mourns its
lover’s lost.

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2 Responses to The Vanishing – a poem

  1. Liana Stephenson says:

    James, you always have such a way with words, expressive and articulate. One wonders how you make it seem so simple; like love being observed dancing among the mysteries, as is this inception that peaks the reader`s imagination. Bravo!

  2. david says:

    I like this, and still don’t quite get it.
    As a (former – formal – formidable) literature student, I’d say, it’s not only dialectic, but trialectic: “Love” only really takes shape as a thing of the past, but it rises, just as it vanishes… brain-tease, there you go.

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