Opaque Tableaux
By Dan Ryder
Sat, 19 Dec 2015
- 395 reads
All that light is borne by the wing of the crow,
His blackness a wreath and sanctuary of darkness
That dips into the day and denudes it of colour.
The illumination is ushered into this vision of pitch;
A fog from which the wraith arises, its allies unfolding
Smoke arms that express motion to a tuneless din.
Ecstatic annotations of shade in an alien spectrum
Give the sense of movement, the idea of illusion but free
Of definite perception; impossible to discern with these eyes.
The watcher is reborn into the undiscovered country
With wings of their own on which to soar above certainty;
The trait that murders the creative
And crops admiration of the divine.
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