An Artist’s Glass Darkly
When one’s passing day is in its shadow realm,
Purchase is found upon
The seat of tranquil repose.
Sleep beckons soundless calm
As the mind’s activity lays to rest synaptic vehemence,
And without prejudice,
The languid undulating dreams of reality
Pause as art in progress.
How rewarding
This launchpad of secrets
Its ambient aura slowly curling upwards
Toward creation’s doors of discovery,
Like thinning cloud plumes of fuel in a countdown
Before imagination is set in motion,
Leaving the world of someone else’s reality,
Those unable to abort the seeing
Through a glass darkly
Repeating remnants of past life’s somnambulism
Insensitive to aspiring future life
Yet to be invented,
Epiphanies bloom…
Dreamscapes of stars celebrate
With rays of obscure light
Awaiting the rapture of creation’s ever-faithful sunrise.
Such becomes the artist’s embrace
Of reality reserved for the imagination.
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and see it’s ‘reality’ from their own unique, subjective and authentic stance…
We get to peep into the artists consciousness, add our own
interpretation, which combines appreciation, ( or otherwise) personal inspiration, and the daily flow of life in the raw, to claim an absolutely unique vision…absolutely fascinating!
A very interesting and quality poem…
Diana…🍃
Your words, unlike those images, are often very difficult to interpret your imagination as it wanders through thoughts ethereal and, sometimes disconnected from reality.
Ron