Memory

The faint flickering of a distant drum

Comes drifting into my horizon,

Into my consciousness,

Into my line of vision,

ticking

with the clattering stampede of a thousand 

hooves.

Persistent rhythm throbs

with the crick of my neck

straining

towards the noise.

Hypnotic,

Pulsating,

into the panorama of my confusion where

the blurred white hum is

deafening.

Into the pathos of my complacency,

and, waiting with the hues of grey and

dirty, mottled beige

is that nettle.

That nettle, whose cathartic sting,

That nettle, whose cathartic sting

with piercing, penetrating clarity,

That nettle, whose cathartic sting

with piercing, penetrating clarity,

sings the truth of my thousand dreams.

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4 thoughts on “Memory

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