On The Cusp

The light
emitted
before me
strengthens
as it pulls
the darkness close.
I stand at the cusp
where the rivals meet.
Black and white.
I’m suffocating
as
the
rays
silhouette
my
frame
and darkness presses
against me.
Without warning,
I’m freed.
Weightlessness ensues,
my brain
levitates, released
from the fortress
of my skull, back stroking
freely in the dark, fresh
pool. The wall nearest by,
only a foot away,
disappears; and I,
too, swim into the free fall
with my gray matter,
floating in space
in the vacuum,
turning like astronauts.
The ideas and words, once
captures of my mind, now
float
above
me
without
gravity.
Forming, rising,
morphing, exacting.
Connected to me
by a tether cord,
they all come
back down to safety
and refuge as I write
in the solitude
of the dark
night. No sounds emitted,
save the soft taps of the keys.
No want of sleep
as the cursor sprints
from left to right, no longer
standing
still,
disappearing
and reappearing
in shallow blinks.

Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.

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About Shainbird

"A lonely craftsman putting one word after another."
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to On The Cusp

  1. incredible. very much so.

  2. And… read three times…out loud. Amazing. So f**king amazing.

  3. Shainbird says:

    Thank you. Your feedback is awesome. How do your ideas come to you?

Type me what you think.

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