Poetry is the thin blue flame
That rises from the ruins of your name
A quiet star sharpening itself
Against the dark
It is the hush before a revelation
The breath that frost carves
Into the mirror of your becoming
The place where your old selves
Fall like ash through water
Poetry is the wound that glitters
The vow you make to no one
The secret architecture of longing
That keeps remaking your bones
It is the cold
Bright altar
Where language kneels
And finally tells the truth
The truth you feared
The truth you needed
The truth that lifts its face
And recognizes you
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Author:
Anthony Hanible (
Offline) - Published: March 12th, 2026 05:20
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: Anthony Hanible, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Beautiful!! It sings and disrobes exposing the naked truth of poetry. A most lovely write and a fave
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