Attic Of The Mind
Poetry By, J. M. Lilin
Vivid and dazzling switching between dappled shelter are the little flickering lights.
Tangled mazes of webs built by the spiders of thoughtful contemplations and reflections.
Corners full of theories and notions that twirl and twist themselves into concepts.
Brainwaves of inspirations confuse the cloud of obscuring shaded words.
The windows are shut as the basement is flooded with the drainage of a million verses.
It saturates and soaks the walls until it drips down from the ceilings of ink and sketching’s.
Indicate my awareness so that you can feel my heartbeat in those characters of feelings.
A riptide revivifies the sculpture of morality and we will eventually realize our worth.
The mind is magnificent and deep like the ocean, some parts dark and deep while others bright and cool.
Conceive the reality of what we can with ourselves in the snare of our visualization and inventions.
A novel masses up into a series of the many things we could conjure from a light bulb.
Just enter the attic in the mind, enter the basement and read the ceiling for there are specialties.
That of what we see and hear are nothing we understand.
Yet, those that we feel, and think are in the attic and all we must do is open up the door.
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