It's here
In the silence of passing by
that I conjure up images
I watch them dance and smile
I see them kiss and caress
Passing by
Time is an inexistent variable
I can not label and measure what is here
What is here?
Look at the sky
White compressed molecules floating
Their density shy of air
Birds flap their wings and shout
I hear
I turn my head and look them in the eye
Cockatrice descendants; the believe themselves to be
Perhaps a Basilisk
Their gaze upon me feels fatal
Yet here I am
I am?
Simply observing with a range of delights and terrors
I breath it all in
People smile and speak their haunting ethereal words
These phantoms have come
They laugh at my heart's rapid conundrum
I smile back with all haste
They will not get me to crack
I have come too far to be pulled in to that deep cavern
PERHAPS?
Maybe I need to enter it
I just might find solace
About the Creator
Joe Joe
Finding myself again. In recovery, and remembered how fond I was of writing and poetry. I made many attempts to write books on an old typewriter years ago. I miss that sense of a world inside of me just bursting through my skull.
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