It began as a slender demolition among
A series of radical hesitations,
Almost subliminal,
Ending, as these things often do,
In an unknown submission,
That sprung forth unseen from unknowing
Forbearers,
Bearing the weight of a whisker
Upon my current condition.
My mind inspected this damage.
The loose rocks, fissures,
Spaces with water infiltration,
The invisible fault lines
Descended from bowed, sternly bent heads,
Among repetitions of rapidly developed demurs,
Humming with subservient
Stressors amid vibrations of curious pleasures.
Ronald Rabenold - 15 February 2015
