Purple Twilight

I’m collecting broken pieces,
sharp edges scattered on the floor,
the strange shards, the impossible dust,
no, even that sounds clichéd,
like a wounded wail silenced before its end;
who cries into nothingness?
how do you pick up mangled parts
and build yourself again,
without hands, without eyes?
I’m growing a new soul in a petri dish,

(not that I think much of souls)
but who can tell what was there, what is missing,
there’s that three legged cur
that scrounges for scraps by the temple wall,
does he realise
what those looks mean,
bemused, mocking,

the fleeting pity
before the devout rush in to find their god?
how does he pray for a leg
no one told him he must have?
I’m watching as that soul grows,
a purple stain like spreading twilight,
it has a voice now,
talking, talking all the time,
there, it says, there, you forgot that pasty bit,
without it, what will you be,
black resin, like melting night,
the darkness that was inside you,
put it back, glue it in,
without it, what can you be,
without it, how will you know the light?

I’m debating with a laboratory soul,
without a mouth, without lies,
scrounging for darkness in purple twilight,
with it, what should I be?

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36 thoughts on “Purple Twilight

  1. A wow from me too – a fantastic write.

    Regrettably we all need a little darkness in our soul for how else would we know right from wrong?

    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

    Like

  2. I’m watching as that soul grows,
    a purple stain like spreading twilight,
    it has a voice now,
    talking, talking all the time,
    there, it says, there, you forgot that pasty bit,
    without it, what will you be,
    black resin, like melting night,
    the darkness that was inside you,
    put it back, glue it in,
    without it, what can you be,
    without it, how will you know the light?

    Gorgeousness overload!! ❤️❤️

    Like

  3. Wow! You slay me, how you find the perfect images and link them in allegory:
    “how does he pray for a leg
    no one told him he must have …”
    The dog, the soul in a petri dish, the poor hopeful and hopeless scientist/god! Oh help us! We need the leg, or the idea of one.
    And thank you for writing this poem!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. wow, intense!
    “how does he pray for a leg” : he’s busy just surviving, i think.
    your poem reminds me of how man is trying to play god, whether to create or destroy life.

    Like

  5. Ooh! These are deep questions for so early in the morning, lol. I like the way you leave them as questions, to be pondered if one will, rather than closing them off with answers.

    Like

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