third eye

blank spaces
don’t always need filling
there is a quiet in the void
that
like a lone feather
separated – by will or force (who knows)
from its herd
falling through the sky
in a breeze less elegance
is uncertain of destinations
forgetful of origins.
a pair of eyes
follow that nameless flight
that is but descent to them
what does it matter
how graceful it is
grace cannot undo
the sinking .
and so they float back
those eyes
to appealing heights
lending themselves
(a little too) comfortably
to successful conclusions.

in the distance
a third eye
an inept embankment
of life’s griefs
blinded by greyness
finds itself shorn of the luxury
of a universe colored and peopled
and fills the spaces
of its autumnal memories
with the melody
of dissipating smoke
(in a reverie of its own making)