L'aura del Campo

Mouldering (Dew Drop Inn April 1)

Mouldering

Anger floats on oceans of fear,
the welling crests, the spray of outbursts,
the untruthfulness of calm

As once firm boundaries of land and sea erode,
the being of my being decomposed,
my flesh mutilated.

Anger fuels this loss of freedom,
the horror of disconnectedness,
the numbing of my senses;

worse, the ruination of my sense of Self.
What orange-red coating stains my aging House:
once diamond-hard, now rotting with rust.

© Kåre Enga [174.7] (1.avril.2017]

Version from earlier today:

Mouldering

Anger floats on a ocean of fear,
the welling crests, the spray of outbursts,
the untruthfulness of calm.

As once firm boundaries of land and sea erode,
the being of my being decomposed,
my flesh mutilated.

Anger fuels this loss of freedom,
the horror of disconnectedness,
the numbing of my senses;

worse, the ruination of my sense of Self.
What orange-red coating stains my aging House,
this once diamond-hard body,

rotting with rust.

© Kåre Enga [174.7] (1.avril.2017]

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