Poésie pour le temps courant / Poetry for Current Times

Love Is the Last Branch of Shame

I live this peculiar life
And it’s not about being singular
I feel like I’m standing in front a wall you can see through
Birds are singing it’s raining or cold or even the sun is shining
No matter what
I know some deep holes
We are not supposed to take in account
But I do
I do a lot
Any season for me dress its particular wall
Green in the spring orange in the fall
But still nobody’s supposed to stand and glance too long through
In the winter it’s black and white and blue
Dark sometimes but it is definitely not the worst
I am just standing not to make a statement
But finally I do
I feel the absence I feel the end
I’m playing endlessly the moments that will never come again
I do that mostly in the summer
When there are too many colours and no colour at all
And I find it awfull
And I play them again
What a life is that
Is it life for real at its deepest meaning
Or the many of a fool
I will never know
Because I am too old now to expect I will ever stop
It’s going to be my routine for the end of time
And I dig not even deeper
I just stand a lit bit more convinced
It’s going to be like this
Untill the end of time
It’s moving forward and there is more to say
But patience is the last vertu
You have to grow
Untill the poem goes
Further