Mementos from the End of Time

“… scraps of memory found in dull minds…”

At the end of time, when
The trees can no longer stand and
Small birds fall
Down from the pale sky, I

Think I’ll take that barren path that
Stretches out to the
Forgotten, though calm, lake…
And sit –
And pick up little sharp rocks –
Tossing them into
The broken water.

While the lone boat of a
Lone man paddles off into
The distance. So,

This is the place I’ll be and
Where you can find me, if
You want. Look for
The stick up against
The hollow tree. The
Golden time-watch inside. Or,
Find me in the dirt on boot-soles
Left warming beside slowly
Dying fires. The letter left
Unopened in the metal
Mailbox… but waiting…

Always waiting like the man seen
Far ahead on a trail. His
Back to us as he rounds a corner by
A tree… but, somewhere, in
The green thick of the trees he
Waits, a walking stick
In hand.

While an old, worn
Book remains open and
Hidden in a deep, quiet
Cavern, somewhere…

13 thoughts on “Mementos from the End of Time

  1. thotpurge May 22, 2016 / 3:55 pm

    Liked the texture of this poem so much.. all the interconnected images floating in the broken water…


  2. Björn Rudberg (brudberg) May 22, 2016 / 4:34 pm

    I particularly loved how you closed the poem… I feel like a searcher looking in vain, but maybe one day when I find that cave it will be too late.


  3. Sherry Blue Sky May 22, 2016 / 5:43 pm

    I just drank in the wonderful spill of gorgeous images down the page…….what a wonderful poem this is, Matthew!


  4. Kerry O'Connor May 22, 2016 / 5:48 pm

    This has the flavour of a different kind of dystopian, end of days. A winding down, or unravelling of time, where just the bare essentials remain. You transported me to that place. I wanted to follow the man with the walking stick.


  5. Jae Rose May 22, 2016 / 7:01 pm

    To be out of sight, just around the corner – made me think if it was the character in the book left open or the person reading the book trying tot find the character – maybe it can be both..a clever poem and it too requires several reads.


  6. Sanaa Rizvi May 22, 2016 / 7:31 pm

    Love the gorgeous images which you have painted in this poem 😀


  7. Mary May 22, 2016 / 9:04 pm

    You have drawn a very lonely and solitary scene with your words. The unopened letter. Lone boat. Lone man. A book open but hidden. Love the details!


  8. Truedessa May 22, 2016 / 9:33 pm

    This is a journey of sorts, a trail that leads to oneself. I picture a walking stick with carvings of the journey and I have to wonder what book is open hidden from view?


  9. Wendy Bourke May 23, 2016 / 1:12 am

    I was really touched by this beautiful piece of writing … so poignant and yet, I found it to be wistfully serene.


  10. Sumana Roy May 23, 2016 / 3:07 am

    “somewhere, in
    The green thick of the trees he
    Waits, a walking stick
    In hand.”….may the lone seeker find the hidden treasures left for him….


  11. Rosemary Nissen-Wade May 23, 2016 / 10:21 am

    A gradual ending, then.


  12. ZQ May 23, 2016 / 3:57 pm

    Very interesting piece.


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