Gazing through thirteen;
greeted by an unsettling blend of darkness and light
Eclipsed by shadows,
hidden faces flanking Shallow Window’s lantern-lit resident
Scribbling Scrybe;
through tides and streams of consciousness
As fingers work a mile a minute,
at dawn I find my *//cuts
Fictional crude bandages
Mirrors and portholes and doors
Here where dark matter collapses
Hollow murmurs and misty shades of Blue
Sitting at the panes;
they still don’t let me sleep
Gazing through thirteen;
greeted by an unsettling blend of darkness and light
At dawn
7 comments:
.
in me
lives
a scrybe
in a room with a thousand and one walls
all covered with doors and windows and mirrors
in me
lives
a scrybe
with hands always running along the murmuring streams
in me
lives
a scrybe
who can paint in both black and white
darkness and light
in me
lives
a scrybe
who can watch both me and the stars
in day and at night
at the same time
in me
lives
a scrybe
who is waiting patiently
for dawn
.
you are so in touch with that collective unconscious that whatever you write strikes a resonating chord in our souls...
just write... just write... dear friend, Scrybe... live and give us the chance to live through your words...
(the link, as i wrote there for you, was also sublime...)
namaste!
Scribbling Scrybe, lucky to have you here at FoS. :) This is beautifully enigmatic. To me, lightness and darkness are equally fascinating.
And human being's poem comment above is spot on, as always.
Interesting and elegant, polished with calm skill. A fine poem.
I came to think about shadows and the fog.
Very soulful indeed. You render the dawn tangible, with its in-betweenness.
I'm taken by the idea of "gazing through thirteen." I'll be thinking about that all day.
@ human being: Thanks for the wonderful piece of poetry, and the confidence; I’m truly touched. It makes me happy that you enjoy what I write.
@ Jenny: It’s a pleasure to be part of this team, fantastic words everywhere :)
@ Ande: Many thanks for the comment, I’m glad you think so.
@ PO Johnson: Sometimes it feels as though I’m clawing around in a dark room, searching for something, only I’m not sure what. Occasionally something of interest jumps out of the darkness, and loses its intangibility to grip me. Thanks for the comment :)
@ Francis: :) Watching the sunrise is one of my favourite things to do.
@ Claude Limoges: Things in thirteen are beginning to get a little clearer, and it’s a pleasure to have gripped your thoughts :)
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