May 21, 2025

OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE

By EPRobles

Sip from the skull of a lantern moth—
she glows like lullabies for lunatics.
Your tongue is a flag of forgotten nations;
let it burn beneath the violet bell.

The floor is made of violins—
don’t step unless you’re ready to waltz
with your childhood scars.

Bite the fruit that hums.
Let the peel tattoo your thoughts.
And when the ceiling starts to whisper,
listen closely—
it knows your true name.

They told you the windows were safe—
but they were lies shaped like glass.
Step through the echo.
Drink the feather.
Blink twice if your hands are dreams.

And when the conductor
in a coat of clocks
offers you a ride to the silence,

say yes.
Say yes,
even if the sky
begs you not to.

:: 05.20.2025 ::

About EPRobles

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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
This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 21st, 2025 at 5:13 am and tagged with , , , , , and posted in #poems, #poet, #self-realization. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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