A silver spiel detaches—
And so, a story starts.
Stops.
Starts again.
Quicksilver pushing iron,
Reality blends for fantasie’s ends
Into wondrous colour.
A continuous weaving
Shining cloth, intricate designs.
A sparkle or two of genius,
The pirouette of a Ballerina,
The wings of a swan.
That for a second—
Illusion flight!
Catharsis:
Dear earth bound tree
And lingering threads of ecstasy.
Fruit of sapped, synthesized Joy…
That glow forever in thee.
Pingback: My Homepage
Welcome to ‘Deep Under the Shadows’ Thomas. I am glad you liked the poem.
This was written at a time when my mind functioned at its purest and is the result of a distilled thought process that was able to connect life and the act of forming a story…
I ended up reading this twice. On the second reading the beauty of it became clearer to me. The silver spiral begins as a story, bending reality, then becomes a weaving (with that as a new metaphor), then
The pirouette of a Ballerina,
The wings of a swan.
leading to catharsis:
Dear earth bound tree
And lingering threads of ecstasy.
Fruit of sapped, synthesized Joy…
and the lyricism of love: That glow forever in thee.
Life does sometimes spiral like that in all of those aspects. Great poem!