The Innisfree Poetry Journal

by Wlliam Rivera

A Final Thought

“Beautiful & Pointless,” the poet quips.
Not practical.
Flippant tales. 
At best amorphous mystery.
A truth perhaps: there’s something in the dark. 
We know
silent mirrors don’t let go.

Outside, a white squirrel sails in green.
I reflect on trees, wave hello, goodbye,
                an array of gods into authority.

Still, I thirst for what’s not known, the final
what. —Gather short-handed words,
to gain a peek into a former feeling meant
to sway—what once was beautiful or not,
in a final thought.

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