An Iron Balloon
You provide the bread and I’ll provide the crumbs.
Let us feed on our banquet of emptiness,
Like ghouls at a christening or body snatchers at the wake.
Let us scavenge for the barest morsels of eternity that may have gone overlooked
Slipped under the layered dust,
Under the sediment left by crumbling ruins of once proud memories now long obsolete.
The mirror shatters into a trillion pieces, but who’s counting anyway?
What is there left of the life once imagined?
Once rising above us, over the years,
Once inflated by virtues and memories, and
Now collapsed like a defeated Zeppelin;
Under an Iron Balloon.
© Igor Goldkind October, 2022