Flowers Of Forgetfulness

Flowers of forgetfulness Into its giving own time Blackish thoughts so less Never to blossoms climb Reposeful the gone hours Garden of tormented ways Lonesome ebony towers The chisel stones of grays The words gone tomorrow Chirping without intensity No one will them borrow Oblivion will set them free Not of a hope to turn again Judgements small and dry Who can its nonsene explain When it comes here or why They are wings that can’t go For merely they beat the air Never to reach high or flow Always to earth’s decay near *(...”Given over to oblivion Grown up and flowering With incense and tares And to the wild buzzing Of a hundred dirty flies” - Arthur Rimbaud)