“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, March 6, 2020
Flash point
When ideas
hit air
they turn from blue to red,
originating from the short wavelength
inside
to form long low rollers of crimson tide
depositing turbid drops
of inklings.
The idea
tries to crystalize
along the smooth open facet
trying to adhere to open wounds
only to become
solid and reformed.
Ages ago,
raw material was re-collected and
re-presented as pure, a commodity
of our invention.
A single blinding glimmer,
like a square grain of sand
may find itself
a fully rounded pearl
over time and under toes
we find this same potential
scattered across elemental
boundaries.
Carbon in cubes
could become a diamond,
coal, a mote of dust, or Us
bearing the weight
of six million atmospheres
while making light
of such intense pressure
to create beauty
from conception.
Painting by Karel Dujardin (1622-1678) , 'Allegory' c. 1663 in Public Domain.
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