Time flows through the poet, catching fire

Photo by Mrika Selimi on Unsplash

Time flows through the poet,

catching fire.

How long it burns matters not—

so long as a few

wake up from the human nightmare we’ve created:

the apathetic living,

the crippling social masks,

the endless hoops,

the way we no longer look into

each other’s eyes,

the deafening drip of cultural chatter.

How long it burns matters not—

so long as one diamond

of awakened consciousness

remains in the ashes,

even if just the poet’s own,

smouldering, glittering rebelliously,

proof of the soul-excavating power of time,

flowing through poets,

catching fire.

-gh