Cauldron of light bubbling unseen
behind walls the eyes invent,
lightning dreams in pinprick snorts
of sight to reach into the darkness.
Chaos and clamor change the heart
to claw at life with fingernail insecurities.
Lives passing in hallways of noon
floating as passion's ghost ships,
lips smiling to hide the chains
holding one prisoner
unto a cage
where one feels no more free
than a animal in the zoo.
Most carry this millstone
by pain and sorrow's steps,
never able to see tomorrow
a place lacking panic's phantoms.
For the hands of quill occupancy
each shadow and quake
is but a chance to dip one's ink
into the muse's well.
Spilling it as parchment,
sometimes vivid, others dark,
but always having one's fingerprints
to say this is my voice
within the world.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
I mean the depth of the write leaves me awed! I can feel the write still in me..somwhere the deep refrences talk to me! Beautiful!
