RIMBAUD WAS SHARP IN PERCEPTION

WITHIN golden fields of Wheat,–above dying Souls,
tender-pink hearted flowers, gray shadows behind
now: oblique thoughts around disks of sorrowful
memories that challenge the brightest of any
brilliant day,
i expected no thing THEN THIS!
upon a carpet of Earth, of silver filigree,
the emotions of pouring molten golden-pieces
of my feelings; two solid legs as columns
supporting this Soul of mine!

sapphire eyes off the cliff of imponderable
existence comes treasures around the rocks
of my spirit-river: the age of time an illusion
as any moment we breath — the chorus of singing
birds — young and strong!

:: 06.12.2020 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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