Concaves and convexes
my thoughts drew paradoxes
when the inside of the mount spoke;
driven by the soft sounds
of Pan's flute I realized,
I was not I.


I walk beside me
yet I do not see,
at times I visit
and at times I forget;


I remain silent while I talk
and forgive sweetly, when I hate
I take a walk when I am indoors
and will remain standing at my death.


And in the musical algorithms
of natural numbers, imaginary figures,
promising metals and frail stones
I found the perfect notes, carved inside
and realized … I was not I.




© Valerie Jones - 2008

• < Prev
• Next >