Gulp.
Silence.
He awaits the sacred geometry,
but is greeted by the purge.
Emptied.
Turned inside-out.
All is lost.
Violently vacated.
But then how come
a dragon comes sliding through
a nightmare too entrancing
to be terrifying.
There’s no slither.
Just a silent slide.
It slides, it slides.
On a silent ride.
There are two types of eternity.
Neither is cheap but one is free.
He just needs to discover
of what it’s free.
[National Poetry Month: Poem #18]
By B Gourley in poem, Poetry on April 11, 2017.
