“Time drops all these moments as
decayed, spoiled riches.
And vibrating strings of light
dance the tip of Souls while
enjoying the orchestra
of all life!” — E.P. Robles
—
[Too late; as late as it gets thought I.]
Upon this very late or very early
morning while i began to realize
i left my dreaming snoring then upon
a glint from parted curtains I was certain
a something queerly missing ~ or should
i say amiss.
There, upon the fabric of dusty thoughts
while peering out my window pane
i came to see a dastardly scene that
almost certainly brought me to my knees!
There upon the shrouded street
were many short blue-clothed things
busily erasing each moment as it passed.
Unbeknown that “i” was one between
the ‘there’ and ‘here’ they froze
all the while i stood and stared;
“Oh no oh no!” they screamed at me
squirming then churning they moved
and rebuilt the past you see
and found myself in bed again
and all ends well that begins
and all beginnings have always been
–endings are myth!
:: 04-20-2017 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 