Photo by Jonas Jaeken on Unsplash
Beauty. Keats braided it into truth,
meditating on a vase,
contemplating the circle.
Perfect circles
are hard to come by,
our eyes deceiving,
grieving,
conceiving
our own illusions,
circles of skew,
distorted views finding flaws
where none exist,
perfection
in the realities we create,
foolishly believing
the ends will eventually meet
and justify the means.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.