Midnight Hour

The shadows have split into

The night’s hologram

The distinct blue that appears

In a web of thin drawn lines.

 

The artist sips on bourbon and

Iced water while his soul

Asks for a clasp of warmth

As his heat has merged

Entirely with his new creation.

 

A masterpiece of dark and light

That started off from a point

Of nervy lines

A net of nodal interrelations

Spurned from the mind’s

Travelling through space.

 

Art-creation that emerges from

The sea of waves

Just like the reality we see.

What is above is below

Stars or galaxies

Nodal points of existence.

 

Useless cries of anger from

Spouse or the lost and frustrated

To understand life is to sit back

And listen to the sound of

Stillness.

Everything will come to you.

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’18.

 

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