From the Obsidian Room — an immersive piece where words dissolve into moving light.
That worry can still go any way; there is time yet to knead it, and your youth. Even as you slowly wane, your body can still change its shape. A cinematic poem gazing up at a golden great tree.
Always the supporting role, content to be the underling. Each day, all I write vanishes like scraps of paper; content to be a mere consumable — the ego, fading. A cinematic poem dissolving into a whitening dawn.
A relationship best called 'the past' — lonely to say, yet safe enough. God watches all alike; and now is a time of reckoning. A cinematic poem set in a heavenly paradise.
From the midpoint of life, we resolved to shed the same blood and share the same room; none know the weight of that resolve — for we changed every path and cast off even who we were. A cinematic poem given to the heat of the furnace.
In the room, a first cry too faint to carry over the city's noise. I held that little girl just once — a fleeting solace. A cinematic poem set in a night of melting moon and glass.
Your wife spoke to me, all smiles. On her breast a pin badge glinted, of the very same taste as yours. A cinematic poem laid over crimson roses.
In a corner, with one percent of my strength, like a snack for the heart; the most restful of places — like a little one living under the arm. If unseen, I would even be a mite. A cinematic poem lost among the ivy.
At the place we reach by simply thinking and feeling, things are decided — our way. No ties, no words needed; neither your standing nor your past touches my heart. A cinematic poem of a board quietly turning.
You were always recording me — moving quietly between people, hither and thither, busy yet merry. And I had thought you would not remember me. A cinematic poem bound into a picture scroll.