Flowers and Men and Fate
Palled eons hover in the space between
Each falling petal, each palled eon called
Eternity or death. These, each one seen
As equal, spy themselves as self-same, sprawled
Like vileness, black. Each falling petal floats
To vacuum. Between the petals death
Spreads wide and wide in space like Viking boats
The warriors set on fire with shibboleth
Of pagan prayers to send off chieftain souls
Much farther in their trek across wide seas
That never will be measured since the holes
In time involved are deaf to deepest pleas.
A petal falls. A chieftain falls, and spans
Abysmal scrub away throats’ avestans.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Dec 10, 2021 | DE, FU, PA, SA, VI |