steve a. manolis poet

For the Soul of Robin

 

Even in daylight the darkness invites

In silence who will watch, who will care?

We can reach the inner soul much to our comfort

We know the secrets and the demons have no names

Still they are there, companions to our being

We call them many things, mostly we call them

And they come, without question, they come

We are at home in this verse, beyond words

Beyond sadness as the world turns in spirals

Like the flush of a toilet we are doomed before we breathe

Spinning, not really out of control,

yet spinning all the same, and we all move in place.

And War said it best, “The World is a Ghetto”

We never escape and one wonders, is this our making?

These are our angels and gods and images, our world.