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Image for the poem Ink into the Sand

Ink into the Sand


Paint chips in glints
Vibrancy of hue

Mystifies

The memory of air -
Once there

Always

There

Like the blood of a poet
In stains

Of

Atmosphere – Where

The hand
That

Moved – Remains

Pen
In
Hand

A phantasm

Casting ink
Into

Time’s

Sand.
Written by Cipher_O (WarlordoftheWrittenWord)
Published
Author's Note
I am deeply enthralled... By the idea of pulling pieces from the common place, by means of living in a state of awe.

This is...  Revolutionary.

I mean...

I think there are levels of awakening, in this regard.

Energy flows where attention goes.

Well...

I was looking at this thing someone painted
admiring the patina of time.

Thinking of the hands that painted it.

Seeing the brush strokes.

Hearing a drip of sweat as the sun gleamed
and crystalized, momentarily.

I sensed the dreams of the person
and how they drifted into time.

O Divine.

I saw them in the stillness
of a solitary dimension

I allowed them to maneuver across different dimensions.

I lived through them...  And then poeted.
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