Friday, October 28, 2011

What's Left?



At day’s end I came to the egg.
I had cried all the tears left in the sac.
Only me and it, and the shadows now.
Did it matter, really, what had happened?
I had magic in my hand. In this egg
lay the seeds of unknown future.
I cradled it. Later I could decide.





This is a flash poem, because blogmeister Mr. Knowitall digs it when people write micro-work for his Flash 55 Fridays, and I dig Mr. Knowitall.



9 comments:

G-Man said...

I do indeed dig it.
And I especially dig it when the very talented Enchanted Oak participates.
Loved your 55 Chris.
I always get exceited when I see your Avatar, I then know I'm in for a treat.
Thanks for playing, and have a Kick Ass Week-End

Titus said...

Oh, I love geodes! And poems of possibility. Thank you.

Brian Miller said...

you hold the seed...and you decide what is best done with it...

izzy said...

Oh my- nice work. I don't have any hens that set right now, but I certainly cry over broken shells.

Monkey Man said...

Thunder eggs! Gift of the Volcano Gods. Love the inspiration.

Mama Zen said...

This is really neat.

hope said...

Your words are the perfect side order for a photo I almost couldn't take my eyes off of!

TechnoBabe said...

No stress, decide later. Nice.

Syd said...

A good reason not to put all my eggs in one basket.

Albert Einstein Quotes