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Deus volt; Deus mittit me.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Free Form Poem--Denizen of the Void--National Poetry Month


DENIZEN OF THE VOID

Into the stillness 
Between waking and sleeping
A thought springs
Growing 
And expanding,
Unfurling gossamer, iridescent wings
Until it fills me 
With awe.
It grips me
With delicate pincers.
The least breath
Of disturbance
Banishes,
In the space
Of the tick of a clock,
My etherial
Intangible.
It's gone!
What once
Filled me
Has vanished 
Without a trace.
Though I mourn
Its whispy passing
And marvel at its talent
For slipping, 
Wraithlike
Through my fingers
I cannot hope to 
Bring it back.
Only lure
With night's wakefulness.
© 2017 by H. Linn Murphy

2 comments:

  1. I LOVE this. So beautiful!! A definite favorite!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you so much for your kind words!

    ReplyDelete