The Shimmer In The Shadows

 

To follow a wind into a labyrinth

where the dark corridors

become incarnate creatures

dredged from an ancient vault.

where the keys have a heartbeat.

 

Grab the mushroom shaped quill

eat it quickly with fear

because it will slowly expand

from the first line scrawled

out of the birth pangs of the soul,

softly scribbling some trickle of impulse

slowly it builds from slow

unto a subtle prowling lion

who claws as your heart

and makes it pound from the verses,

which build in their power

utterly driving you to the edge

of the precipice of light

where love, hate are arrayed

as the throbbing pants of profound,

gradually groping through each stanza

until reaching the last word

that becomes a nuclear detonation

ever creating ruins

out of your foundations.

 

Amid the blank pages

lie the portal of the muse,

down that rabbit hole we fall,

but into that wonderland maze,

unable to stop the rage of roaming

willingly submitting to the pen’s spell,

where it follows a power

out of the place in the shadows

that we have to spend a lifetime obeying

after that candle is lit

from creativity’s match

so able to give perspicuity’s stunning shimmer

unto the dance of digits

utterly addicted to its flame.