Through these times again.
Alone on a rock.
Faithful to the only ones
That sees my soul glistening
In the wind.
I have tumbled here.
I have come.

Though the midnight weeps
Of yesterday (yet to come),
My chime will be in
Instant living when life meets the center
Of my home … my domain … covered in
Silver crystal lamps, dangling in the wind.
I have tumbled here.
I have come.

The truth began to sweep the edge of this dimension.
Like the only star living
In a temptation to flee.
It’s what may seem the
Centre of yet to come.
I have tumbled here.
I have come.

I can hear the wind
Of many oppressions. It
Covers me, like the domain to where I
Sleep with the edge.
It is yet to come … seedless rain.
A tom-less tom cat who is cold under the fur
Within the alleyway of the same edge as I, alone.
I have tumbled here.
I have come.

The heart can be the utmost
Theatre stage, which stages left
Down the stairs,
And putts on an act that the
Soul is right in all ways, or wrong.

Stage this in the book that reads of life,
Like the back stage where I have tumbled from.
Where I have come.

• poetry
• truenoble
• nathanielhammel