Posted in Of Writingly

Light, Frivolous Things

Light, frivolous things
These words that find themselves
On your screens.

They aspire for no high art means.
Philosophy, Literature
Or, even a Psychology of Dreams.

They carry no value,
Like the veins in my palms
Blue in running from passion.

They are light like the sky
Infinitely stretched out
Thinned, beyond all
Concentration of thought
To be nothing at all.

And in their nothingness
Accepting the mystery of everything.


Writer, Blogger, Kate Bush Fanatic

3 thoughts on “Light, Frivolous Things

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