Slow Circles

It’s always night when new horrors come

only in the hours between consciousness

the dreamwalker’s realm

when those who kept eyes open

see shadows cast by the midnight sun

and know this waking dream for the nightmare that it is

It’s walking with a midnight caravan

when dawn is only a memory behind

and even blind searching in the night

finds only deeper darkness

Then to the still sky plains go the walkers of shadow

carrying on their backs all those lost worlds

that never made it out of spinning death

and now this one merely a step ahead

is racing those same shadows around around around

slow circles in the evening sky

Guys, the emperor has no clothes.

Photo by Aviv Perets from Pexels

18 responses to “Slow Circles”

  1. No clothes–and it’s not a pretty sight. I watched part of an interview last night with the author, Bolton–who wrote the Trump memoir. I was fascinated, admired his courage to write and publish an expose book close to an election…and I’ll admit, fearful for him: if he suddenly dies there needs to be an investigation. Great poem as usual–such a literary gift, truly.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. The emperor has no clothes and the dog is without a bone…there is nothing he can provide to someone…he is not allowed to be understandable…nothing he can come together with that is interesting.

    Donald Trump is what is understandable in the world today or what people believe in their ability to see and hear even if they don’t agree. Something else would need to become understandable about what can and can not be seen and heard in the world for there to be a unified human conglomerate as the show.

    Liked by 2 people

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