i was reflecting last night; i mean
i was being reflected upon my bedroom window
looking out on the white silence while
sipping on warmed-up milk
feeling corrupt or sexy then it occurred
to me how difficult it is to hide from you
not that i am more abstract than the next
in my random verse as people are
nuanced and defined but you always seem
to know what it is and what it’s about
two lives: one open and seen full of
relative truth and relative falsehood, the other
running a course in obscurity feeding
a germ of outrageous desire
lodged in our hearts that will not
yield within us and will not die even
when we die so
of circumstances everything that is essential
everything that forms the kernel of one’s life
is hidden and everything that is false in us
the sheath in which we hide the truth is open
that is what poetry really is: an instrument
which makes the nebulous tangible and which
illuminates the abstruse quality in events
otherwise too absolute
or both at once
This is amazing.
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π thanks, a bit of mindless rambling.
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Brilliant π
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Thanks so much for reading it.
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Much truth in what you illustrated Vera. We do seem to have two lives donβt we. I may wonder whether I have multiple personalities. Who am I? Sometimes I seem to get on with all kinds of people I come across, while those other times I look like a strange silent creature who prefers to be drowned in her own thoughts, and creates wide distance between her and the surroundings. I can imagine you look up to the sky and sipping the milk, I do similar things too. Lovely post to be read on a dark greyish Sunday morning (still morning here). Have a good week. π
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I am the same, Isabelle. And I know exactly what you mean. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts. Have a lovely week, too. π
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Dear God. Boom. That’s everything. β€οΈ
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π thanks, that has made my day.
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My pleasure! Your poetry is all-ways wonderful, thought provoking and soul stirring. :)β€οΈ
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