Its dark
Its dark... and a half thought poem emerges from some hidden place, moving through the darkness, looking for total birth; an idea mixed with sights and sounds becomes real, like some magic moon which appears and flickers, then fully shines for the first time. There is life in my darkness. for It is the colorless background of fertile, finishing dreams, like the rich soil in which the most beautiful flowers have their shapeless beginnings. They are always beautiful to me, those areas of meaning... Sign in to see full entry.