The dark is silence, sleep, calmness, and all those little lights, thoughts that travel, feelings and emotions, are what animate life — writing is a lively act.
Metaphorous Mind Matter And in a heartbeat my ink it cried Bleeding words, spilling it over Spilled ink on immaculate sheets, And like phosphorus beams Something vibrant and colorful Came to life, was born — A metaphorous birth of characters Indulged of my mind matter Farfetched from the gaseous The eternal thing from the past Where chaos is the silence Where atoms dance lavishly Lighting up that darkness. And in a pulsating heartbeat My ink transfused like blood On all those immaculate sheets So as to become concrete words. -eiravel-
Eiravel 