In vain attempt to grasp the ephemeral threads of reality, they unraveled, taking sanity with them.
Leaving merely a void lined iris, eclipsed in ill-fated secrets unveiled. Ipseity adrift in the sempiternal maelstrom of awareness, settled upon the brow, a drowning anadem.
Dread descends, a wraiths embrace. Wrought and seeping, insights diadem inters optimism, nestled in reality's mayhem.
Verity’s weight bows spirit, strength dare not forsake. Yet still, bears a burden carried heavy upon them.
About the Creator
AAshes
Learn, Create, Burn to escape.
Step into a dimension with no intention, simply a void of mindless devotion.
Art is My Meditation
art is a meditation you feel cleaned and anchored well with eyes open wide. Meditation has earned recognition as a mindfulness tool. It does not work for me. But I find spiritual cleansing and deep focusing with my creativity. Art is my meditation.
By Seema Patel4 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
Oooo, ipseity is a new word for me. Your poem was so profound. I loved it!