The Process Of This Manner...

groping for the metaphors
to illustrate the dark, light, and
twilight,
going back to the days of
childhood trying to see if
adulthood is well deserved,
the process is tedious, and
so much time is wasted, and
all for these, in these trying times,
the essence of what to really say
is lost.

to save this species of speech
from extinction, i gather all
dusts, equate that patience,
raised so many spiders between
the frames of my windows,
as light is let through, as though
there is a saint kneeling on
the floor, i must, give this language
what mystery it deserves, learn
the art of wanting to speak but
not speaking at all.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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