It is as if I were
Truly, marching, numb,
Blind despite standing
On a pillar above the sun,
Bathing in an ocean of
Clarity, clean, dumb
A kind of understanding
Or a stellar love, a unison
Dripping in slow-motion.
It is as if I were
Well fastened to a past
Faint, absent, steady,
Found elsewhere once more,
Begrudgingly opaque,
As sequestered and cast
Paint spent uneasily
Around canvases ashore,
Erosionally awake.
It is as if I were
On the verge now,
Ready to step onward,
Dare, envision, try,
If but for a moment
In an urge somehow
To unravel the skies afar
Care, abandon, fly,
And not ever lament:
It is as if I were.
Written on July 15th, 2023.
This poem was written to accompany a picture by Tim Gentle (@atimosabeart). See the result at: instagram.com/p/Cuu9oUnPkPi
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