Adding up to Null at Dawn

Traumatic Aftermath of the Magician’s Morning: Adding up to Null at Dawn Numb our notion of love Blotting out every bit of Sun every endearing remark Given up with barely a mark Bands of emotions remain Hauntingly scattered, Among unsung reveries: colorless dull memories Unresolved broken ladders, Heavenly tears that tare deep, this morass Is what’s left of laughter Ruins by morning, aft thereafter Passing over flaccid night Depleting joy, a veil’s an ode to suffering’s rupture Dampening each particle echoes faint, a distant matter All cues hint, but unable to play These undead feelings, phantom caste upon Hades’s stage Puppeteer of this: Sorrow’s Play Propping up ought be forgottens: i.e. otherworldly remains What used to mark our midnight travels Traverses our ominous travails Silently betwixt by indecision, revision, and years all but frozen Gavels flat theses last glimmerings, Of hope, tells tales of how forebode ends Nevermore, our playgrounds’ haunted Nevermore, fragmented stories Nevermore, this sealed up matter Nevermore, hermetically tight Save from some simple rhymes… In times the kinds that one’s child would tell, As if something once was duly and truly spoken: Sounded out like wind across the sea: Magic carries onward the Great Mystery Only now by Kali, she conceals with horror That which he calls “Real,” And takes for all reality This darkest light that only mirrors keep Reveals in cryptic lies, life in the form of its remaking Dead and broken, Disaster made flesh, the word as counter-image Kneeling before Man’s Might and Right’s Unknowing: Tragedy becomes the word most high Name of God as the Unbecoming Wearing the suit of a jester, crown a cover for thee eyes. by A. A., 2019 7th of Jan., at 41.