The Living End

It’s poetry week here at Sorryless! Well . . the next few posts anyhoo. One post each by me and the lovely and uber talented Linds B. And as an added bonus, we’re doing a ‘Wordless Wednesday’ which will feature Linds B’s amazing photography skills. So yeah . . three rounds of poetry, if you will.  Hope you enjoy . . . 

I sit on the edge of a pier whose crest is ruddy from salt and whose pores speak in countless years worth of retreat. The sun’s pledge is not simply to give life to everything, but to rearrange the composition of those silent places so that they may speak to us in the quiet of their nothingness. Which is why a simple plank of wood can tell stories. Richly hewn splinters swirl in the sea breeze while the deep and swollen ridges burn in myriad colors.

The moon has sliced deeply into the evening sky as if a serrated disc tearing through the raging mysteries of the dark. It presents itself as low hanging fruit ripe for the picking by lovers with a million different ideas on how to possess its sublime intentions. The songs it carries inside its plump belly, they plunge and holler and sway as the sun slowly descends into the ocean.

Night is spilling itself across a dying summer day as if ink spilling slowly across a landscape portrait. Its reach is lustful and outrageous but the severity of its reign is a bold disguise that is revealed before too long.

The stars. They begin to pockmark the roaming blankness with a lustrously magical spell full of brand new mysteries. Soon, the sky goes loud with shine as the moon imparts the wit and wisdom of the ages into children of a million torch light songs. They appear as crystallized shards of an ageless mountain range forged by ancient tales. They whisper in a language constructed of the first words to the last. They regale in the majestic union of bloom to dust. And then the world collapses into this endless wait that never loses time. Ashes marry to ashes, dust to eternal sky.

A song begins to play . . its lyrics woven from the living end.


39 thoughts on “The Living End

  1. Dear B,

    Truly, you are a word sorcerer. This is absolutely beautiful. I was drawn in and carried along.
    How lucky am I to be in your inner circle and privy to this beauty?

    Awe, love and sprit,


    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Q,

      All I can say to this comment is, it’s sort of like waking up a few days after Christmas and finding a present you missed under the tree. And it’s like Christmas all over again.
      MEMO TO WP: Go chase down the Russian hackers, you guys are THAT thorough! Wow . . .
      Sorry(less) . . . but seriously, I can’t believe this beautiful comment was in the spam folder! You call me a word sorcerer? Are you kidding me? I can honestly say I don’t possess much of an ego or a need to have my back scratched with kudos . . but word sorcerer. I kinda went gaga with that. Because it comes from a person to whom I admire and respect and love. For her honesty, smarts and for her ability to cut to the quick when she digs a piece of writing.
      Beta reader? You are like my hot buttah reader.

      Peace and going gaga

      Liked by 1 person

    • Maureen,

      I must apologize for just replying to this. It seems your wonderful comment was in the spam folder. Evidently, WordPress wants to steal my wonderful commenters from me. Well . . they can’t have ’em!

      Haha! You took a gander at that Scientology sidebar huh? I keep it low key, seeing as how those peeps scare me.

      Thank you for the lovely comment!


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