Fossil Egg
The secrets that contain you.
Like what fills
the center of the fossil egg,
a never-developed
word or the crimson bud wormed black.
Repetition lends force to lies but can’t create truth.
The halogen bulb remains dark without electricity
even in the light of day.
But how to enter that space?
The yolk hardened to stone.
A man’s forgotten name.
The unmentioned flower.
Every day looming in possibility.
***
Fossil Egg first appeared in September 2019 at Recenter Press. Many thanks to the editors for taking these pieces.
O at the Edges 
Beautiful!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks very much, Barbara!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A poetic Schrödinger’s cat! Very nice.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It seemed appropriate to current events…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Agreed: “Repetition lends force to lies but can’t create truth.”
Mystery poem – a fossil egg – preserved but never allowed to hatch into its intended form. We can only guess the conditions that make such occur – for a single fossil egg – for the plethora of lies we all accept as “how it is”. That all is changing does seem a truth, though change may not be soon enough. Will some entity a few thousand years from now stumble on fossilized humans wearing deteriorated remains of masks?
LikeLiked by 3 people
And who knows if the change will be for the good? I hope it will. I can imagine archaeologists in the distant future interpreting the meaning of these masks… 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
This is not just poetry but art. Stunning Robert 🙏🙏
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ah, Damien. You’re very kind. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Repetition lends force to lies but can’t create truth.” What an insightful observation! I intend to use it (with attribution) in all my conversations about politics. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Peter. We hear the same lies over and over, but they still remain lies.
LikeLike