Soul Lash (or, Futility)

Sensing impermanence
In my self,
The essence
In the artifice
In the candle-flame
Of the wick
Where my older soul resides,
Well, in that distant place,
My soul lashed out
And slowly flapped
Until lamely she
Gasped one last name,
One last race to breathe,
Akin to a dull fish in shallows
Berating the sands and mudflats,
Berating that constant urge
Of nearby waters to flee
Scenes of my existence
And surge downstream
Away from me,
Though once my scales
Shone like polished heraldry
In folds of

2 thoughts on “Soul Lash (or, Futility)

  1. Wow! I really like this. Probably not for the “right” reasons though. My perception/interpretation: I am zoning out watching the flame of the candle, thrashing about like a wish out of water, both before becoming extinguished, and the thought of that as my old soul… that’s where the wow comes in.

    (I just realized I typed “wish” when I meant “fish,” but that just became way too Freudian-slipping cool to “fix” now… )

    Also, I like that the old soul is a she.

    Liked by 1 person

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