I dissolve into invisible, whitish steam,
Where triads blend with the twilight's gentle glow,
Missing the midnight madness of a fever dream,
Where thought moves slowly, like a canvas on display...
And, having missed the parting minor-choir’s song,
I fly away into the earth’s most sacred wild,
Renouncing anger of the mournful mountains, strong,
To understand that light alone is fate crown unbound.
Having perceived the essence fully, aspire
To hold your chronotope of love with every cell,
Not quite denying what the laws of fate require,
But grasping secrets that the dawn’s bright canvas tells...
I gather back into invisible, whitish steam,
The night-time tremolo gives way to daylight's art.
With birds’ sweet trills, the Pleiades fade like a dream.
With smooth and gentle thoughts, into the pane I start..
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Author:
cellinic (
Offline) - Published: June 10th, 2026 22:17
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
The combination of rhyme, meter and meaning painted in dream like imagery makes this a fave
Cellinic, this feels like stepping into a dream and a meditation at the same time. There is something wonderfully ethereal about the movement between steam, twilight, stars, birdsong, and dawn. Beautiful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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