A myriad of colours, swirling-
Swirling, or dancing?
Like smoke.
Or flames.
Such confusion, twirling, flowing, twisting and
But stillness.
Like yet unlike.
A calm sea but still raging-
Fighting? Maybe.
Ripping apart the
Cloth? But softer and more brittle.
Delicate like granite.
A strange sound: quiet, gentle.
So horrifyingly ear- splitting.
It dances faster and slower.
So much noise.
Noise, and movement.
Like a still pond.
A pond of snakes, writhing, coiling, hissing.
Silence.
Silence like the silent stars in the silent sky.
Day or night?
Hard to say.
A pounding. Heartbeat?
Closer and closer.
Further and further.
Opposites?
Or the same?
Perhaps there's no difference.
Life and death.
Wrong and right.
What does it matter?
Too many questions.
Building up up up-
Empty.
A clear mind.
Clear? Hardly.
Such confusion.
Nobody understands.
Or maybe they do.
But don't care.
Maybe it's the same thing.
No black or white.
Only grey smoke, swirling-
Swirling, or dancing?
No matter.
YOU ARE READING
Drifting Worlds
PoetryPoetry about anything and everything... Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work, any suggestions or constructive criticism is welcome. I hope you enjoy!