Art Is Leaving Me

I wept, feeling
the sight of those ruined stones
– the ancient beauty
that shone out from them
simple, perfect, smiling

-deserted;
marred by the powerful dint of unreal time

Art is leaving me;
I feel it,
inventing the mystery
-pagan virtues;
whose darkness, gave

-fresh dimensions;
lending every surface the quality of depth

Smoothest path looks dangerous;
I feel it,
the awakening of creatures
-passerby;
leading a life of darkness

-the look inimitably enlarged
Art is leaving me.

2 thoughts on “Art Is Leaving Me

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    An intriguing work which explores the limits of existential experience and the ultimate dissolution and disappearance of all that was once familiar and certain in our perception.
    Upon first reading it reminded me in particular of,possibly my favourite poem of all, the one by Borges , ” Limits ” wherein he remarks , that ” Space,time and Borges now leaving me “…

    Reply

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