The hidden world is now revealed
by grace of perception now received.
Strange hillocks between valleyed depths,
a scene visible without equal breadth.
The signal is beamed straight into my brain,
instructing buried secrets few can explain.
Mysteries wrapped in enigmatic veils
are clearly seen beyond shadowed pales.
The voice has granted me this boon,
whispering secrets beneath the full moon,
each more puissant than the one before,
establishing illusion as reality’s cure.
The others cannot discern this domain,
where spectres caper and phantoms reign;
the fantastical becomes the norm
when belief transcends mundane forms.
Now sane thoughts are left behind,
no longer participating in worlds aligned
with those who don’t possess insight
to patterns born from the fevered mind.
© 2026. Lynn Green. All Rights Reserved. 20260505.
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:44 PM UTC
The hidden world is now revealed
by grace of perception now received.
Strange hillocks between valleyed depths,
a scene visible without equal breadth.
The signal is beamed straight into my brain,
instructing buried secrets few can explain.
Mysteries wrapped in enigmatic veils
are clearly seen beyond shadowed pales.
The voice has granted me this boon,
whispering secrets beneath the full moon,
each more puissant than the one before,
establishing illusion as reality’s cure.
The others cannot discern this domain,
where spectres caper and phantoms reign;
the fantastical becomes the norm
when belief transcends mundane forms.
Now sane thoughts are left behind,
no longer participating in worlds aligned
with those who don’t possess insight
to patterns born from the fevered mind.
© 2026. Lynn Green. All Rights Reserved. 20260505.
The poem "Signal" depicts a speaker’s descent into a private, supernatural reality, where the line between divine revelation and psychological fracturing becomes indistinguishable.
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