a poem by Rani Turton, France

Alcoves, waiting to be filled or fulfilled
Waiting in the recesses of my mind:
Longing for the absolute self to find
What goes where, when, how and why.

Alcoves, patient and secret,
Waiting for objects and subjects to make
Memories, to fix, mend and bend
Life’s recollections, to analyse
To question and then to reply.

Alcoves that wait and desperately want;
The self is an entity that cannot be bought:
The route of life is fraught with danger and
Only at times is life’s true meaning sought.

Copyright: Rani Turton

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