by Mathew Paust
The ego in its inconsistency
betrays a heart
hungering to toll.
Unable, it comes to know,
to trust solely in its will
or in imaginary gods,
It gains a hold assuming a role whose demonstrated viability
can render convincing cover to buy it time to realize
an identity that feels unique,
Yet is not so much so
as to strand it in the Cosmos
bereft of soulful company.
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Revision of an old thing in honor of the NaPoMo-15's final day.
Bacon's Blood (27) has been shipped to the "novel excerpts" holding group.
I love the first stanza. ***
Thanks, Tara.
*
*
Appreciate the stars, friends.
This is fantastic.*
The closing made me recall Whitman. Good poem, Mathew.
*, Mat. I liked this a lot. The opening does it for me:
"The ego in its inconsistency
betrays a heart
hungering to toll."
This one goes the distance!
*
Smiling with gratitude. Muchos gracias, Amanda, Sam, David and Crabby.
Stranded in the cosmos. Makes me feel that loneliness is several magnitudes larger than I first imagined. *
I get that feeling at times, Angela. Thanks for the visit.
The last line contains an ache.
Begs to be read aloud, and enjoyed!
What Bill said.*