SIBYLLOGY: Life inside the Saussurean Bar.
Fragmentary words about
metaphorical curtains
haunt me, from time to time,
and make me wonder
if you rue choosing them;
on clearsighted nights,
when the darkness seems close.Stars wait; darkness waits; silence waits.
On clearsighted nights I discover myself waiting.
Clearsighted nights
call for oblivion.
by
Thought’s locked in a mind’s gravity,
when you know what you are waiting for it can be painful, but when you dont know what your waiting for it can be soul destroying.
beautiful poem, thanks for the wonder:)
Exactly. Sometimes you don’t even know if you are waiting at all, or just … marking time? Until what?
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