Metaphor

Metaphor

Uncharted land…
my feet sank
into the soils.
I was knee deep
and began to write
a metaphor.

I was surrounded
by flowers
until I became one.
I had my fill
of morning’s dew.
The giant orange
ball NOW placed itself
within this twirling,
revolving matrix—
“I WAS.”

Without a warning,
all the flowers evolved
into prairie dogs.
I scurried
from rock to rock—
a playful untangling
unraveled itself
until
I fell into a deep
hole…

down I plunged.
I could not slow
myself.

Embedded within
the earth,
I was at its core.
I heard her beating.
My pen,
attempting to write THIS
metaphor,
turned into roots.

Stretching in every direction—
if direction be understood,
I became unwound.

The endless miles of
‘living’ veins pulsated
with earth’s blood
NOW in me…
Pushed me upward
to the surface.

“I ROSE”
bursting through the blanket
of ground now crushed
giving life
to branches
now cascading into
the sky’s
never-ending sea.

Dazzled
was I
as leaves became my voice
singing a tune
like a chime
in this wind swept
tapestry.

All at once
the metaphor
turned silent—
the eve of night-fall
approaching.

Hidden—
everything before my eyes.
How could I go on
writing what I no longer
could see?

Pausing
I closed my eyes
a moment.
When they opened—
‘sparks of light.’

I cleared what
I thought only
sleep dust
from my vision
ONLY to behold
spectacles of light—
‘shooting stars.’

They were galaxies away
until one fell
landing on one of
my many branches.

I lit up—
consumed, as if by fire,
BUT—I was not
destroyed.

Trying to write a metaphor…
I removed my shoes
knowing the surface
upon which I
had written
was holy—

The metaphor
seemed to whisper,
“Write-On.”

 

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