• Henlo Gang SEEKERS Freedom Writers

    I post this next part so soon because of the support of @ClaireSheppard .


    The attic was ripe with black molding
    and the cobwebs were not free of spiders.

    Father had bid me a curt farewell
    then locked the trapdoor in his leave.
    This was my awakening.

    “All is hush
    and the nighttime is cool.” I said drowsily,
    smarting to a reverberating GONG in the stretch.

    I did not watch it now, but I had;
    I knew the grandfather clock in the parlour
    swung a golden pendulum from a silver chain,
    the wheels of the mechanism
    in audible wheeze and groan,
    and the membrane of the mansion walls
    were none too absorbent;
    they, in fact, mirrored the beams of sound
    almost perfectly.

    I lay in my bed,
    guarding the shriveled clasp of my eyes
    open to the sudden shadow of a man
    by the moonlit window.

    I’d just acknowledged him
    and the cognizance fancied a start.

    He was, by my knowing, Dr. Jacobsen,
    father’s personal psychologist,
    here as companion to myself:
    for none wishes to die alone –
    however soon –
    when gripped by a tumour.

    “Does time as the clock announce its passing?”
    he questioned as would a teacher.

    it basks in benevolence and seeks belief.

    -Does time take a path astray
    forelong* it be convergent onto the road?

    it chooses solely
    the stream bereft of friction and broken edges
    to flow most inaudibly
    betwixt the rocks and sands of glass.

    -Can time be brought by chain
    or coaxed by silver?

    -Lines parallel are unwavering
    else they give shape.

    -Can time tire?

    -If the stream were coarser,
    time would hold the world still.

    -Does time in finality exist
    among matter?

    -Its shadow is hand-wrought
    yet the sun shines no more.

    -Time is not then
    marked by a clock?

    but one must follow rather than stay
    within the greens withnot bread.

    -What kind of master is time
    to not break bread to the birds?

    -Man is the hardened blacksmith,
    the blinded poet
    and the drifting dreamer.
    He makes all but none,
    and he feels all but none.
    Yet he wants more.

    He found no further was to be said,
    and I fell weary to his depart.

    “Only I am bold.” said he or I.

  • Henlo Gang SPARTAN Music Lovers ♡ soul searchers ♡

    Bruh thats deep good stuff

  • Henlo Gang SPARTAN Music Lovers ♡ soul searchers ♡

    @AlbeitDying You have good content man ull do very well i know it ☺

  • Henlo Gang SEEKERS Freedom Writers

    @James-C-137 thx. I might not understand all of what 14yr old me wrote but I appreciate the care.

  • Henlo Gang SPARTAN Music Lovers ♡ soul searchers ♡

    @AlbeitDying yeah man u should write more often its good

  • Henlo Gang SEEKERS Freedom Writers

    @James-C-137 I stopped for a while, but I think I will. Thx

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