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Guessing Game

Chased by a force majeure,

trying to outrun

at breakneck speed, 

a meticulous taxonomy

of secrets and sins,

deserted, eyes averted,

playing hide-and-seek

with angels and djinns,

their effort concerted

to extract a conversion

of the Damascene ilk, 

while Delphic daffodils

bloom around a noose--

 

--but what even was

the prophecy? From 

a god's mouth to 

the ear of the 

interpreter, to 

the kingdom of 

meaning, a whole 

entire labyrinth 

of guessing 

and gleaning...

◄ Stricken Hour

Faded ►

Comments

Holden Moncrieff

Tue 8th Mar 2022 00:55

Thank you so much, John, it means a lot! 😊

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John Botterill

Mon 7th Mar 2022 12:44

An amazing poem, Holden. Stunning writing!💪

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