DESCENT TO UNPLUMBED DEPTHS
inverted logics,
twisted times;
we are adrift
with unsettled bearings,
unable to focus
let alone steer
a pathway through
the emptiness
boundaries press,
all so unreal,
nothing remains
of dreams long-time held;
we are reduced to ashes
of who we once were,
fragmented crumbs
of who we would be
all directions fail,
we falter and decline,
vectors go misty,
no longer a line,
with no way to judge
coordinate space;
no forms are sure
enmired in this space
we gain nothing
within this loss
but fresher failure
and newer forms
of unexpected pain;
we fade and fall,
one with descent
to unplumbed depths
how ironic
the way that weakness
grips on to us
and drags us down,
how unsettling
that all we know
gets stripped away
unmercifully
- Brendan Tripp
08/15/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp
