The Brimming Chalice
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
THE CALL III
If the Wind is not ribbed
How shall I hear?
As bared longings gnaw
At the riddle of the Sphinx.
Here I sit
At Equinox - the air gorged
With fetid gyrations of decay -
The darkness smoothens my ruffled fur
But the Ankh,
Hovers before me - The call
Of Light.
So, the circle yearns
To ride the crests of the Cross
When the mirrored stare
Of a cock-lain-egg, sat on
By a toad yields
The dust-to-dust.
Here I sit
At Equinox - lone pulsations
Of a waning gibbous -
Here I sit
To piece the broken Rosetta -
Stony fragments like a plectrum,
To thumb the Wind.
If the Wind is not ribbed
How shall I hear? -
The tenor of the stream's lollop
That leads to the sun-curtained cave
Behind the Waterfall -
Beyond the sentinel arc -
Seven hues,
In the ascending spray.
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About the Book
The Brimming Chalice is a journey the heart had to make alone and its response to the variegated shades of experiences it encounters. It is an attempt to grapple with the most obvious as well as the most subtle inflections of tone, colour and being. The resultant utterances are a heed to the call, the rites of passage, the visions and the outpouring of quintessential ruminations captured imperfectly by the mystic dance of a ballpoint on paper. It is a beginning.
About the Author
Eyitemi Egwuenu obtained his Medical Degree from the