nirvana's gate

crooked trails
endless highways
trod these weary feet
most often alone --

along the way
lovers known
always thanked
in dreams

harmonicas play
blues tunes unrepentant
born in dark foggy hollows
harmonizing whippoorwill's
lament

forgetting to remember
to forget
moments unnecessary
besetting surreptitious evils

shuddering soul shunts its
way -- scurrying aloft
no taunts left to hear

cast carelessly
from constricted voice
of dying hate --
departs at last -- and
about precious time --
taking its unwished
for ambiance to
voids unknown
where finally it
devours itself
in uttermost
famine

in its wake dawn spreads
wondrous wings
as if for first time
unshadowed after all
glow glimmering

crooked trails --
endless highways
finally run straight --

straight
to nirvana's
gate.

vcp

13 November 2010