RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Transmutation of daily life is a sacrifice made for no apparent reason.
All around the world are specific moments recalled from a vast
expanse of unconscious knowledge.
Like a harp, strings are recollected at a second's notice and transported to farthest outreaches and inner paths of memories.
Researching equivalent measures brought to bear against
fragmented images, finding solutions that don't match questions.
Far-reaching events tend to quickly huddle in bunches of tiny
Drying immeasurable moistness of inner tears, seeing them as if
for the very first time in mirrors of black and gray.
Reflections sending signals throughout the atmosphere touching
upon the small heart of a human being.
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Comments about this poem (Daily Life by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
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