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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • ORIGIN GATES


     


    Above the bridge railing I stare down into the silently yawning, whirling throats; a whirling, centrifugal vortex-wheel drags me along, pulls me, and pulls! Balanced on a thin, snow-white blade, thus is he who was cast out into life! Gathering crumbs of breadcrumbs through a lifetime, Till Death, like a lawful chase, takes him! With narrowing eyes curiously fixed on me, the wan shadows of shipwrecked souls Past-remembering, meek shadows emerge from mire-thrown foam; Witnessing guardians of the possible that is! 


    As aerial-gymnast-samples, we may all thus balance the many certain possibilities; at another planned turn, veronal, foam of water, or poison is of no use - with conscious cowardice, human dignity confidently fails us! I stumble between reckless tumbles with purpose. I would even lie flat, like Sinbad, like a petty nobody, and probe the beating heart-titties of angelic ladies! May I remain in my falling, fallen life who I was: an eternal child in an arrogant adult world! 


    Thick and unsteady even now is the black, roiling stream. I feel that I have often run out of strength to face every trial like a murdering jackass! The old Danube still murmurs and calls me to it! - Nowadays, the circus and the bustling ant-hill of the great world are so merged that the heart of the prodigal little man is always trembling, when he looks into the flashing, decaying Tomorrows with dignified and faltering eyes! 

     

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