Statue and its Shadow

Great Behemoth looms
    in careful wake,
sullen
  broken,

boorish cracks

       litter

 cavern floor.

This Master lies now
          as death
in     post-languid defeat:
    humbled, numbed
         admitting obsoletion;
          yet  towering, &
so to render any ignorance
             of presence,
         (of former sovereignty)
   futile for those still standing with
                             sense
                 to see and

                      feel.

I, a solitary nomad, approach
   containing contempt not wholly
          severed
       from admiration (a
         respect once felt)
              as the heat from the red-river
                                   Virago
                              burns
              radiant upon the flesh of my
  similitude and silhouette.

  In reverence of passed love,
        a bitter mercy, yearning void
         " inevitable and undeniable "
                      must put this form to
                its dust,
                     some hungry
                                     sustenance
                                   for the river’s
                 rampant flight.

Reviews

[C.C. Marx]

Great poem! I love the format of the lines its visually very interesting :)

[Samuel Dickens]

Terrific. Your love/mastery of language is displayed in full. As my brain is hard-wired for prose, I'd like a wee bit more detail, but that's just me, I know. Most who read this will welcome the mystery.