And No Bird Sings

The notebook remains in covered silence - unopened

The blackbird’s aria caught frozen in its throat - unsung

The baton of the great conductor locked in stone

half raised – immobile

 

Such a fabled beginning, an overture to an abandoned opera,

ripples in the sand of a planet long evaporated

in a history of death

 

The bride, waiting a hundred nights beside

her disappointed bed, her longing

unconsummated

 

The hands of future’s clock stuck silently at five to twelve

 

All the stories never told, books unwritten

scenarios of pain and pleasure, all the heroes

knights and warriors – uninvented lies

 

And you sleep on – a dreamless giant

unconcerned

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© Johnmichael Simon

2016

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