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When standing still   I can see you have arrived Again in such a subtle state But thoughtful and dynamic deeper and more frightening Into something so uninterrupted, in all your bright and silent lights   I fight against your bitter wind I want you to know that Your landscape amazes me with your city lights flickering In the background streaks of vibrant orange fragments of yellow and gray descending and tranquil the dampness tingling by my fingertips I feel your presence So complete And personal I understand and I am not afraid of your consistency Nor do I plan on changing this knowing the growing fear That someday everything might turn to ice Guided by the cold I wait for you I don’t expect you to answer that frigid time when everything is consumed by the anticipation of complete darkness Everything emerges I will give you a chance Though I am not convinced you are in control The world around me makes me think You’ll understand   no hope that you will stay long or why this has been created without warning Wandering through time So thankful for your energy so pure and precise forcing me to turn away
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Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 12:45 PM UTC
February Poem - 4:45pm
When standing still   I can see you have arrived Again in such a subtle state But thoughtful and dynamic deeper and more frightening Into something so uninterrupted, in all your bright and silent lights   I fight against your bitter wind I want you to know that Your landscape amazes me with your city lights flickering In the background streaks of vibrant orange fragments of yellow and gray descending and tranquil the dampness tingling by my fingertips I feel your presence So complete And personal I understand and I am not afraid of your consistency Nor do I plan on changing this knowing the growing fear That someday everything might turn to ice Guided by the cold I wait for you I don’t expect you to answer that frigid time when everything is consumed by the anticipation of complete darkness Everything emerges I will give you a chance Though I am not convinced you are in control The world around me makes me think You’ll understand   no hope that you will stay long or why this has been created without warning Wandering through time So thankful for your energy so pure and precise forcing me to turn away
this poem is from the forthcoming publication called "Under the Sycamore," a collection of poems by Peter Piccolomini and book cover design and illustrations by New York Graphic Designer & Photographer Anastasia Wingate
peter-piccolomini
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Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 12:45 PM UTC
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