The Exhalation of Uncertainty

for truth is the colour of frozen sunshine,
flowing in a whisper,
in the decrescendo of a hymn,
still hands tremble inside its drift,
words spilling from paper, from lips,
blank spaces like awkward silences,
like the fluttering,
of the edge of a monk’s unwashed robe,
of the forgotten end of a faraway song,
of fingers disentangled from an embrace,
we are the infinitesimal dust, dancing
in the exhalation of uncertainty,
we are the spinning universes, orbiting
a dubious eternity,
what is proven,
what is clear,
is the unambiguous at perigee,
is what you seek what I seek,
what does the mystic sing, sitting cross-legged
alone in the emptiness,
leaves spilling from trees, from limbs,
stars shining like broken promises,
like the reckoning,
is what you see what I see.

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20 thoughts on “The Exhalation of Uncertainty

  1. What a gorgeous way to start a poem:’truth is the colour of frozen sunshine’!
    I also love:
    ‘words spilling from paper, from lips,
    blank spaces like awkward silences,
    like the fluttering,
    of the edge of a monk’s unwashed robe’.,

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A very capable expression of deep thoughts. I was pulled in by the images, the ideas you explored. It speaks of humanity in our times – or what has become of it.

    Like

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