"before my time"
...learning the ceiling
before floor
—how a day is shaped,
or air keeps its measure,
how the house moved
to a rhythm older
than the streets outside.
Whatever I became
started here,
in a climate set
long before my time.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 9th, 2026 05:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
Clever Cryptic the first line with thought makes sense for a baby is always laid on their back and I often wonder how closely and for how long we search that ceiling before we learn of other things. Was in not more stimulating when the ceiling was the sky and clouds and birds passed over? How much of what we are and tolerate as boredom was shaped in those early months. We paint our ceilings white formless, the choice black with closed eyes or white with eyes open. No wonder so many see the world in black and white. A great write my friend and my mind again wanders.
Glad that off the bat that was picked-up on. Thanks Soren. Most appreciated, my friend. 🙏🕊️
You are most welcome muy friend
A deep write much enjoyed
Most grateful. Thank you🙏🕊️
most welcome
Good write A.
Thank you O.
Superb
Thanks, T🙏🕊️
'Learning the Ceiling before floor' . Great line .
A Baby in a Cot looking upwards.
Good Write.
Cheers, Kevin. Most appreciated🙏🕊️
Rik, what a thoughtful and elegant piece. The movement from childhood perception to a broader reflection on identity unfolds naturally, and the understated tone gives the poem much of its power. It reminds us that our beginnings continue to echo through us long after we've left them behind. This really moved me, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Being moved and moving alike, let poetry rock! Thanks, Tittu 🙏🕊️
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