Friday, 26 November 2010

Scarecrow Self

Trapped in a pool of its melancholy
nostalgia its sole reflection
time is the only wind that
ripples the surface and
spawns self-same currents,
as if this were
a heady matrix of absence and desire
when its but a fool’s plaything
to chime away shallow suffering
of a Scarecrow Self
who battles the days and night
lone sentinel of windswept barrens
learning endurance
and its place in the world.

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