Nightly knocking..

The spoken comes unbidden
Reckoning the secrecy of the unspoken
Never inches to the written but,
Only amuses itself to an openness -
Ephemeral in its etherised denial
Diffusing to New York's smokeless burial.
Need you as a mirror, till you shimmer
And while Ackerman sleeps behind bolted doors
Nightly knocking you whisper my name
Unspoken perhaps. I can only hear rain drops
Latching yours to coma.
A today left me unrecognizable
Just a multitude of reflections
Beamed and frowned at
While the distant sun rages a crescendo -
Beneath, the grains of repentance
Ripen in the unrest of unknowing.
And my infinitesimal being
A night in its burning dream
An agitation in the friction of metals
Mirrors the momentary you
To the distant opaque eternity.