The War-Born Child
abhors the self-deceit of divine power
defoliate to a Rorschach patch
clouding a declining mind.
Each night before sleeping,
he creeps along basement walls,
slowly unravelling transient passages.
While deep memory remains mute,
significant people, the subjective heart,
never cease to beat. Waking
he paces desolate wastelands
where wind and rain
© gothicman 2017