Sometimes a whisper,
desperate to join the real world
calls out from the tower,
the cry of many memories trapped
within the egron of time.
Sometimes! Deafen by the silence
one hears the exhaust fans
out of balance, a simmering
smoke stack exhale,
rutunda roaster tumble,
seductive klaxon wail
spent bean silo rumble.
Alas! The same stars still shine,
the same moon reflects,
as one feels again, the innuendos
extracted out of the very shadows,
that linger within the walls that
surround this place. Profoundly
this void, this vacuum of personification
guides me as one follows one’s
inculcation through the labyrinth
of reasoning, where recollections
pass by in a moment of blithe,
an instant of reverberation
spray dried in a cascade of
fine blend, evaporated within a
classic symphony, harmonies of
years, sweat and tears grounded
out of an idea.
Yet spent! Like the rest of us.
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