Very Bad Archive
in a moment
buster bobula
Fine crystals of the hour glass
continue to dwindle
like the last rays of daylight on the end of an era.
Its faint memories, from a time when no one knew anything and everything, drift slowly on the ashy river stirred by slate gray paddles.
Now as twilight falls, remembrances echo through the smoke of oblivion and the numbness embraces us all;
yet we are refreshed, readied for the time of reflection.
Atleast it seemed there was a crowd.
but as suddenly as that whim rose in my mind it had disappeared like opportunity.
And not a soul has come between me and solitude.
I must stop myself each time I slip heavily into this mind and remember the bliss of not knowing. Must remember the golden hours of innocence; not knowing anything, yet knowing everything, being at peace with it, oozing sweet serenity as pure as lamplight on a frozen pond. And I know, with that same serenity that falls like wind on a forest, that the time of reflection must end, yet give to something new; a time of hibernation. restful, but dizzyingly overwhelming. If you're not bored by now I don't know what's up with the world
buster bobula has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 13/2/09. Read more of buster's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of buster's latest works: