FALLEN, UNWHOLE
what was not
before
in coordinate frame
these nail
targeting time
no matter what
becomes
of the intent
not our voice
not our visage
the scramble zone
has spun
out stranger forms
wove webs
unstrung by us
unsure and unknown
how to see
the final style?
meaning has fallen
purpose died
the vector charted
loses sense
calendars' focus
is not enough
nothing matters
nobody cares
the hard fact remains
that efforts bleed
to void alone
distant, forgotten
empty,
unresolved
if our hatred
could take a shape
and walk the world alive
if our passions
could be the storm
and blast with fire
then these could matter
their essence be retrieved
- Brendan Tripp
11/20/2000
Copyright © 2000 by Brendan Tripp
