while the void whispered
'leave meaning to chance'
I often find that the more control we try to have on things the more, it, er, slips through our fingers.
not that the human body and mind can't train and be trained and accomplish great things, not that poetry
doesn't take practice, but that the meaning, grr. The best of poets is just a highly accomplished medium, letting the world flow through.
No critique here, just impressions. It makes me think of the feeling when thinks you've always been sure of get fuzzy and questionable. When the solid foundation begins to give way to changing times, changing rules, changing meanings. I could be wrong, but hey, it works for me.
A penny whistles down emptiness and so echoes behind it a chiasmic hallway that which some believe is best expressed as another dimension though the infinite breadth of possibility perhaps holds more beauty and function than the ubiquitous temptations one may find within defining truth as linear.
Nice little two-line, four stanza structure. It looks neat and tidy, and your choice of words seems to be very deliberate. I have to admit to not really being sure what the hell you're talking about here, but that's undoubtedly just me being dense. I guess I have this visual of a patrolman walking his route, alone and being very aware of it, the silence weighing heavy enough that he feels the need to break it with his whistling. Then you have that strange occurence when you're by yourself and you become convinced that you heard something -- an innocent noise in daylight when you have company -- but now it's vaguely ominous and it means something. You are forced to go investigate, which is always a mistake, because it ends up being something crap rather than the profound thing you wanted it to be. Eh, I'm just rambling here.
I didn't like the use of 'hearken'. It felt a little clumsy. But that's just a personal take. I doubt you'd want to change it, or even if you could.
Overall, it was short and sweet, just like this comment.