posthumously unrecognised

it's all still there
said the voice from out of nowhere -
a shadow of an echo that barely stirred
the settled down dust coating every blurred surface
that ever dared to hold a candle
to the faceless figurines lined up for show
in the hallowed cabinet

look in the drawers
or in the wardrobe with the inlaid doors
stored moth-eaten clothes all hung in rows
there are clues in the cobwebbed attic too 
where the woodworm obligingly crumble 
the very structure of this artifice
that we call life

it's all still there
said the voice from out of nowhere - 
words barely legible just as time is an illusion
canvasses daubed by the would be masters
songs existing as nothing more than whispers
only waiting to be discovered
praised and lauded

6 thoughts on “posthumously unrecognised

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