Monday, 14 January 2019

Black as ink, densely dark,
the night comes veiled:
the veil that covers the grey dots and lines, and words,
and sometimes even the sentence.
In the wee hours of the dawn,
through the breaks of grey
may be seen streaks of light
upon the Eastern sky.
After the hours of intense dark
the aurora of a better glow
than that of the fireflies lightening the night
will emerge to shine in the sky.
The book of the cosmos folds its pages.
Undismayed by the intricacies of style,
go on tearing the pages.
At some time or other,
a light may be shed
on an old forgotten art blurred at the edges,
frayed in the text.
Perchance it may come unblemished
not to fade out again from the inner memory
disguised in the robes of oblivion.
All this is possible and may happen
for "Our ways are the ways of the archetypal madness"


Image Courtesy: Pasajul De Noapte
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