the absurd lies on the surface of our skins <br />like a rose tattoo that shirks and shrinks with time <br /> <br />crumpled lines and fading dyes and a story that refuses to die <br />you ask me if somehow i have obtained some meaning to my life <br /> <br />something that i cannot say i soon tell you <br />it is more of a growing thing that does not really show itself <br /> <br />unless you wait till the right season comes <br />the wind gives it a light feeling and the sun warms it a bit <br /> <br />surprise comes like a bud and bliss comes like a red flower <br />so dainty and beautiful but you know it well: a very short moment <br /> <br />like a breath a sigh like a puff of whisper to the ear <br />it is a show of life, we gather dry leaves and then burn them <br /> <br />we clean the ashes and we wait for the grass to grow back <br />we anticipate the coming of hope, the rain, the clouds, the sun <br /> <br />sometimes it is all dark, we are blind, and then things, all things <br />begin to be real, it is all the same, too much light is also blinding.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-absurd-on-our-skins/
