4 point summation.

Here is an unfinished piece of a geometric form I have been toying about. any input is always welcome!

Are we blind?
Forever the days linger
Long, and quiet truth
Waves for notice.
We long for truth.

I still see.
Locked within the life
We trust, never again
To look clearly.
Still we look again.

Are we deaf?
Dimly the nights do
Fall flat, and stones
Weep for dawn.
We fall for stones.

I still hear.
Firmly behind the verse
We write, time lies
To keep control.
Still we keep lies.

I’m here now.
Outside the door where
Repose waits, and light
Gladly seeks shelter.

Here repose seeks light.

Below the awning

Below the awning rest I
And refill on sunset glory,
While o’er ends does tumble try
A single fallen leaf.

Along a paved city path
The wind a burden bears:
Delivery of summer’s epitaph
To me who shan’t care.

Sifting through the peace

Sifting through the peace; the hope
That neither desire nor petition
Could make pleasant days languish.
“Life ought not be war’s weeping pieces,”
Emerged, though dimly, from the stone
Lying about as deathly commerce;
Vacated of all trade and light.

Looking through the haze; the smoke,
Of such pale and unseemly condition,
That commanded daylight to perish;
A disparaging silhouette seized
A fragile child’s form. Standing alone
She repeated again the same verse,
Knowing truth is sweet and contrite.

From a haze emerged the afternoon

The field was sated with an autumn glaze:
an opaque veil relegating all to vague forms
and questions of a muted experience.
Even the scent was overtly undecided:
decaying refuse and burning industry;
cultivated soil and my slow burning tobacco.
Smoke that should waft from my lit hand
is consumed before it rises; before it forms.
Never had I seen a haze of such iron constitution:
where sound becomes muffled chaos;
where light breaks rather than bends.
At midday, as my watch surely indicated,
the overwhelming confusion disbanded;
resigning the answers it did sternly guard.