Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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The silent clarity of the moon
filled the room, as I collated
clues, sure markers, crumbs
of memory, left along the way
into that dark wood, dense
and arduous that mortals come
among these signs, scant yet
luminous, visionary fragments
personal pieces, broken celestial
symmetry, recognized primal hymns
harmonies troubling sleep, prodding
me, along to wander in war’s desolate
ruins, gashed, dismantled, blown up
shattered windows, seers of sight
all that completeness ravished
in the same act of the same play
to perish in icy sea that lies in us
until there was nothing, leaning
against the wind, to wake me
from this consuming reverie.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    June 28, 2011
    Over Costa Rica