Circle

Oh, Great Ambiance,
Oh, Great Muse,
Something ominous
Has begun to shake loose
And wander its way into the wild…
And wanders alone until becoming something more mild…
    (the thought is no longer an idea,
    but now atrophied as an image)

Oh sweet realm of convention,
Mother of all that destroys invention,
Something eats at our hearts we cannot describe,
Let alone can we destroy…
    (the image fades until it doesn't exist anymore,
    except for in our minds where it rested long before)

        As the art becomes a full circle…

Reviews

[Benny]

The whole poem is nicely done.

Favorite lines:

Oh sweet realm of convention,
Mother of all that destroys invention,
Something eats at our hearts we cannot describe,
Let alone can we destroy…