The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by Wlliam Rivera
A Final Thought
“Beautiful & Pointless,” the poet quips.
At best amorphous mystery.
A truth perhaps: there’s something in the dark.
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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