|Th Journey of the Magi (1511)|
Andrea del Sarto
My mind is missing
a vital part –
a tiny pendulum cog
like those that switch back and forth
inside old pocket watches
balanced with a chip of diamond
and necessary to basic function.
Without it, I don’t see
the need for polite conversation;
my smile has developed a mechanical hitch
which stalls it halfway.
I have given up on epiphany,
on cognition –
afraid that any thought
would lead me to retrace my steps,
go over the same ground,
rearrange the syntax of a single sentence
in the hopes it might say something
other than: Your journey has been nothing
more than wasted effort.
Maybe this is preferable to the discovery
that my fallen star is crowned with thorns.
The Sunday Mini-Challenge ~ In Other Words