He is lost in a mysterium cold as a wintered frost bleak upon the planet of his birth
Signposts are confused and fragmented for time is brisk in the decay of our lives
The sun slips earthwards under cover of night to chase another dawn to another day
Shy stars gaining confidence blaze brighter as the plains cool and radiate their warmth to the heavens
His path intersects a caravan of clowns on a fool’s errand
They laugh at his travails absurd as actors with no parts, a mockery
Clutching his bundle of sketchy maps he struggles to stay safe on an unbeaten virgin path
Dealt a trembling hand of cards he holds invisible amid thieves plotting to strip his compass and his wealth hectoring beyond hushed woods a forest’s cantaloupe of wolves – echoing tales of conquest amid the fragrance of pines disguising their deadly intent
He greets another man bent in the opposite direction and they tarry for a moment to compare their earthly transits, a lady and a child nameless at the fellow’s side are worn beneath the anvil of the sun
They sleep with no story to volunteer save the hope carved on the face of their silent dreams
Flynnpoetry 