With Baited Breath I wait

A poem written in the midst of the annual contrast clash between summer and autumn. A time of restlessness and uneasiness within the ether. The warm, succulent rays of the sun shine fretfully and unrepentantly through the perturbed mass of wind and strain, scorching lush green vegetation in a kaleidoscope of the shade red.

It is within this intense purlieus that my questions pertaining to existensialism and meaning gain a purpose. With baited breath I wait…

The decadence of the shapes and shadows around me.
Stark, shrieking shards of wit and disdain, deranged and withdrawn.
The sullen dejections of the wind, the intimacy of causality.
Deranged, delinquent ornaments of time, desperate and forlorn

The cacophony of the chambers and chariots before me
Sharp, sudden silhouettes of truth and lie woven intimately
The implicit imperfections of the elements, the suspense of glee
Devout, resolute instruments of space, withered yet stately

The stillness of the sun and the stars above me
Sage, shackled shadows of the then and now stately and sedate
The somber spirit of the time, the luxury of a more independent me
Dissolute, insoluble infractions of relativity loyal to the shelter of trait.

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