It hangs from a spiderweb
that descends from the ceiling
suspending time
always at the same hour
the gold turns black
it seems to sway coldly
captured by the hypnotic illusion
my carnal witness rests
and I repeat to myself that I am not
I neither fall nor rise
I am three
of three
by three
indomitable fleeting balance.
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Author:
Pari4 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 29th, 2025 09:34
- Comment from author about the poem: Don't give in to illusory panic; the constant vibration of wakefulness can tire anyone. Synchronize—don't quantify—body, spirit, and reason.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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