The Days and Wholes

The Days and Wholes

[Written by Erifili Gounari]

[Image by Erifili Gounari]

THE DAYS

Moon become sea

silence imagined, no difference,

no effort, no strain

 

sums of desire and of comfort

days of red and nights of white

emptiness challenged and

quiet embraced

 

a thousand fires, no –

a million

heavy lids and zero burden

and stars become silk.

 

The sound of the trumpet is

Eternity. You know her and she

sees you, she pulls you

in a reverie;

 

the perfect orchestration of

elements

 

 what is there

not to accept?


 

WHOLES

 

An illusion selected

from a catalogue of truths;

staring at a blur of motion

starring in an act too real.

My own moon is always full

when time commands it to obey.

A circle’s genesis is nothing but a curse;

the inability to deal in halves

instead a dogmatic absolute.

An absolute that takes control

of every area that is grey

of every hue

that isn’t whole.

 

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