Incandescent Heart

A million, mewling lines,

soul-forged designs as old as time.

Pushing the limits of his mind -

but there's always another hill to climb.

The concepts come to confluence;

towing the line between eloquence

and heavily under the influence.

Staggering upon a fragile balance.

Attention dangerously deficit.

Chronically-confused counterfeit.

Dragged out from the misty river of dreams.

Drunk on scenes, bucolic and obscene.

Desperate to remember that homely stream.

Drifting, lost in the supple clouds.

Buried deep in a pearly shroud.

Oh soft, incandescent heart...

Off into the painted skies he'll depart.

Tracing the colors back to where they start.

Author's Note

There's a lot in the subconscious of this poem that I feel that I should explain, and simultaneously believe that would be cheating my readers of their chance to... reverberate with my words. That's probably extremely pretentious of me to think that people WILL have such a reaction, but I prefer to err on the side of caution than ruin a single reader's experience...

So, with great reluctance, I'm going to leave it alone. I don't want to work on this anymore, and if it's not good enough to stand up on it's own, without my explanation, then it deserves to remain in the shadows. I know I basically used a lot of words in this description to say nothing, but I didn't just want to leave this poem ENTIRELY without context.

Reviews

[GwenLark]

This is just simply a joy to read