the plunge

arqios

 

 

 

A page becomes a field.
Not a window, not a mirror,
but a surface that shifts
as the reader steps across it.

 

Each line tests its footing.
Each break alters weather.
A form does their speaking—
content only follows its lead.

 

In this wired village,
we build with what we have:
scraps of signal,
a handful of tools,
and the will to keep shaping
whatever comes next.

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

  • Author: crypticbard (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 27th, 2026 05:10
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 2
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments1

  • sorenbarrett

    A most interesting concept Cryptic I often trip over commas left laying around and once in a while step in muddy pools of homophones stubbing my toe on misspellings. I have plenty of scraps but my buildings are often set on poor footings and roofs leak. Nicely done my friend



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.