In the Space Between Breaths

Bobby BeauSoleil

 

Keeping his timeless silent vigil

the sentinel sits tall in the saddle

casting a long shadow on the plane

of a dimension betwixt losing and finding out

unfazed by the din of lost souls

howling and screaming like monkeys

for the attention of mothers now ghosts

 

A bereft bighouse sparrow

chirps incessantly his staccato call

for a mate or just a friend

a rival if it comes to that

his chirruping echoes down the long hall

it almost seems that he is answered

so he flies its length to see

the one he seeks just out of view

 

 A world seen through grimy windows

offering promises long unkept

sunbeams play on cobwebs and old paint

making cave paintings on manmade stone

and imposter fireflies from the dust motes

like those pesky persistent thoughts

rattling in the skull like wooden beads

offerings to be burned on the altar of the heart

 

Wandering the bowels of labyrinthine dream

one good turn deserves a hundred more

until finding the door to escape at last

only to awaken in another dream

where the joke pretending to be peace

is a masquerade for the gap between wars

glories sublime in unimaginable horror

the history games of desire and suffering

 

The sentinel observes it all unblinking

unmoved by pleas for intervention

by desire for winning or fear of failing

the parade of fools unrecognizing

the seeker’s search for truth unchanging

knowing the peace without an opposite

there to be found in the immensity of space

between the falling and rising of breath

 

 

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