Midnight Squints The Candle

A poem.

Like the blooming of a thousand soundless symphonies

comprehension cures

fabric out of place.

Eyes inside the vacuum bare their

gnarling thunders and the props of life implode;

destroyed by fantasies of being.

Reality hunts itself and dies by reflection.

Strings murmur above aeons, symbols dressed in sunlight.

Midnight squints the candle of your waxen past.

end kealan coady December 2015

Reviews

[Roland Petrov]

Ah, you write poems too! This is one of those poems that sounds so good that whether or not it means anything at all is beside the point! It begins and ends with lines I wish I'd written, along with "Eyes inside the vacuum". Good stuff!