Will, would, who knows!

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Will my words sit timidly
on the threshold of life forever
hesitant, directionless and self-deprecating
or like restless vagabonds
traverse the unlikeliest of places
wandering on the lips of strangers unknown

What determines the life of a song
is it the number of times it is sung
or when its relevance surpasses time
to flow into eternity
morsels of soul wrapped in metaphors
do they satiate other souls
or meet disdain and curl up and wither
trampled by indifference

From these tattered, stitched up verses
would anyone try to piece my lies
or would they lie gathering dust
under a stash of showy strophes
would some wise eye espy the thread
of truth discreetly running through
or would they be dismissed as trite tedious tropes

Spring-like these words gurgle on their own
they know not what they want
except that they want to flow
my pen gives them the spotlight that they crave
though I crave not the spotlight
a mystery, an enigma I claim not to be
I do have a yen for the luxury of anonymity.

Written for David’s W3 where POW Larry has asked us to incorporate chiasmus in our poem, for Eugi’s moonwashed weekly challenge.

Sharing at dVerse OLN.

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