Stood like a lamp for hours,
Chaos of earth unbothered.
Is it magic or curiosity?
Hangs the question hollow.
Divine art hanging alone,
Deep and open like my soul,
Everyday I wonder,
Why so dark at bottom?
Bright shading on the top,
Remind me of my actions.
Traced with precision on canvas,
Resembles mine thoughts.
Frame cracked here and there,
Depicting it’s flaws.
Like every other art on land,
Beauty is meant to be mortal.
Longer I stare, more I awake,
With lesson taught everyday.
Shook my mind to find,
A mirror! It is!
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Author:
The Velvet (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 19th, 2025 12:08
- Comment from author about the poem: Self-reflection of the poet.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
An intriguing and wonderful poem that slowly unfolds up to the last line where all is revealed. Loved it a fave
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