mistaken darkness

most of the light is from outside yet
inside is where the warmth and
silent dark corners all begin to grow
tempted out by that lack of motion
and growing confident by no activity the
keeper of the house begins to come alive
enduring those who the house doesn’t belong to but
nights are when strength is slowly gathering
docking up the stillness with a frozen set of
added statues and plants so little and leafy
returning to such captured minutes like a snapshot
kind of like a film so unmoving it is scary art
need to return to the old ways like
eloquent bonfires and private satchel bags
so the spirits can inspire as if
some kind of creative mythology
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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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