There are no words for how you make me feel -
Not wholly happy nor is it all sad.
So Orphic, how do I know that you're real?
This ambivalence is driving me mad.
The hypophrenic habromania!
I can't define the sense that you inspire.
So I experience metanoia,
To feed my chaotic internal fire.
Panoptic, I see you entirely
And I'm entranced by everything in view
The shadow of your soul reflects in me
And beckons me to move nearer to you.
No Epeolatry can spare my soul.
This gap in lexicon engulfs me whole.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
There are no words for how you make me feel -
Not wholly happy nor is it all sad.
So Orphic, how do I know that you're real?
This ambivalence is driving me mad.
The hypophrenic habromania!
I can't define the sense that you inspire.
So I experience metanoia,
To feed my chaotic internal fire.
Panoptic, I see you entirely
And I'm entranced by everything in view
The shadow of your soul reflects in me
And beckons me to move nearer to you.
No Epeolatry can spare my soul.
This gap in lexicon engulfs me whole.
Credit to robin for the title "lexiconical gap"
Perfect poet, that one.
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