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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
© Johnmichael Simon
2016
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