exams
I'm in that heavy room again,
The rain becomes something deep - profound,
Kilometers above pressing down and down...
Until the rumble is synonymous with air,
It becomes to me a heavy stillness,
It becomes to me as quiet chorus,
It becomes to me as toil of days and long spent hours,
It becomes to me a wettened stone,
The room three quarters lit,
Makes friendly company with air,
Onwards they tug the space without a care,
Until the dimming is synonymous with air,
It becomes to me a watching father,
It becomes to me as expectation of my own,
It becomes to me as cloudy reminiscence of this heavy room,
It becomes to me a passing place I care to be,
I care to be without the lightness every while,
I care to see the buckled genius in crouch,
I care to taste the fruits of work come sprout,
I care to know this heavy air and know its weight.
Brewing over a mug of equations with a friend,
Carving out a graph beside stark circuit lines,
Weaving up a story to encapsulate the fact,
Cooking up an abstract thought of tiny things,
That make up all the ticking clocks and buzzing air -
Our plane is ready to depart.
Tomorrow we make our escape from all these eager pictures.
The eager pictures fall behind,
They took a lightness on my eyes,
Now heavy lids make days draw quick,
Walk heedless weary 'neath the sun,
Beside the swollen grass and waning stalks,
Beat on in pulses as the vigor of my heart,
Rescind the rain to call the summer glaze,
A squabbled scene of green to find,
Which lasts beyond all strength of spring,
Alas the eager pictures will return at dawn,
To test I last beyond all strength of spring.
Met a question in the heavy air,
Glanced upon the clock - there's give for time,
"Would you care to answer to my mental court,
To make your case upon my mind?"
Then melding molding merging into space,
All tangled up in air it seemn't care,
"Oh quick and simple! come be clear,
I'll tug you loose but never tear!"
And tugged it was till in straight lines,
A jolly fellow sound as beams of wood,
"Good gentleman, I see your riddle,
Clear as courts have shown what could."
Well goodbye my eager pictures,
Your tale is ancient and refactored time again,
But I shall place you down and find another lens,
I've grown accustomed to your fixtures,
Neatly on walls and sketched out in pages,
Your quaint flames and beams and glassy gauges,
I shall replace them with great whirring metal,
Your successor or at least a retold tale,
Drawn in silicon - a truly eclectic portrayal.
I have just almost one exam left,
That is to say two final tests,
Then soon a plain and simple rest,
Before I charge at my behest,
To summer and the myriad of things to do.
An easing snap and scattered to the ground,
The finish line cast gently down,
Some raucous now I do not find,
At the buzzing end of speeding mind,
The Sun is fiercly in the sky,
With passion as I said goodbye,
With passion that I fail to clasp,
Instead a steady smile far milder that I seem to grasp.
Crash out a little for the days are had,
Now the busyness has walked its course,
So pulling close my spread out thoughts,
I'll spend a little time with rougher plans.
What is this absolute mess on the floor?
All painted now and tossed upon the tiles,
Straight cubic chunks like packaged soldiers,
Striking chaotic rank and file in all but a measly pile?
Oh that's Caleb,
He must be chuffed to bits.
Through the slow fire,
Hours on the clock,
Beneath the ancient spires,
To the novel many flock,
We sit in some sense watched,
Beyond this present time when rushed -
Thoughts test, and show preparation best.
The gauntlet through,
It's hidden blades and crouching hills,
Lie broken on this mounting view,
In the evening air a moment to sit still.
White petals fluster at the breast,
Opens a mortal wound - becries,
The great descent into cold flame,
So beckoning the year a test,
Pale carnations bloom.
Pink petals crown the leaking heart,
So summoning from shallow wounds,
The direst pain. To barely bear,
A naked flame in passing hours,
Rose carnations bloom.
Pink petals mourn the flowing fount,
Leave hollowed husk to fill again,
With sacred velvet born from life,
To death with wit's false hope it bleeds the same,
Rose carnations bloom.
Tell me, tell me of this grand success?
Who beholds it? From where does it descend?
Does it come in muted drips or furious sound?
Does it stay, and is it ever found?
Did you hold it from me so I would see?
This broken hope laid bare within my heart,
My hidden strongman's strength I came to love,
Has fled me so I weep.
Because my strength is spent and naught,
Because I hoist myself upon so frail a mount,
Because I didn't see the filthy hope I took,
In these frail wings you gave.
I weep because I wanted you,
And settled for a smaller thing,
Veiled from my eyes I stole,
A glance at this weak mortal frame.