Life In A Round Room

Screaming babe, shamefully born
from precious deceit and frictional heat,
where lies abound and vices meet
In a round room he’s altered, torn.

Hopeful youth searches the sky;
concentric questions, soaring high.
A beckoning haven
through temporal persuasion,
leaves a broken room vacant.

Chestnut hair, alluring eyes.
Gentle motion does arise.
Sighing breath, bursting lungs.
Heart beats fast, soul is flung.
Brown into blue, lies so true;
from a guileful room, a beckoning view.

Letting go, he opens his mind
and loses himself, alive in the hive.
Joined with strangers in cosmic gift,
spiralling down galactic rift;
coursing the stars, the emptiness vast,
where life support could never last.
Through a darkened room he’s falling fast.

Shunned by marble’s cloudy crown,
he plummets to Earth, so profound.
Tired eyes open; a crumbling wall
festooned in streaks of hardened spoor.
A click, a groan, a hand reached down;
in a soiled room he’s sundered, found.

A wasted life nears its end,
when wrinkled men can’t pretend
it never was, just because.
A wayward boy, his footing faltered;
a misplaced step, direction altered.
An untended friend, a spoiled crop,
his search has reached a welcome stop.
A final release, a fitting closure;
the dusty room forgotten, over.

Sad, long life, no more to endure
on blistered hands and bloodied knees,
through a flurry of ash in a gold summer breeze
to beyond the known, where he was sure
stretched endless void – an empty cure.
But above the cosmos’ boundless seas
floats an endless room – eternity.

 

© 2015 Scott Kaelen
Included in DeadVerse: Poetry Volume One

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