The Trained Third Eye Of The Abstract Brain{ An Exercise In Ornate Imagery }...(Rv-Rp) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Sleeping silhouettes, passing-
over a beaconed circled Moon,
glistening with silver white sheen
like stars upon the blackest sky;
a presage of a nascent oddity?
...THEN-
light in seams like fine-tooth thread
crossing midnights miming shadows,
strange narrow crescent shapes,
ostensibly smiling, and-
obscuring the vast stage
of myriad hues... sparkling-
from the bright jagged lightening
of my veiled, aura migraine,
while passively levitating
as if like David Blaine,
and, landing...with instability,
yet pleasantly,
crisply, and softly
as organdy,
and smiling
on a soft bedded drape
of transparent weaved cotton.

And, what be this experience stroking my Brain?

Shadows o'er shadows
umbra's 'fore penumbras,

WHEN -

a consortium of comets
migrating fast as fireflies -
were embering the toasted skies of God,
encroaching like lighthouse beacons
like surgical spotlights
over a sterile field
orbiting, orbiting madly like spokes
on the wheels -
of an eighty-one Monte.

WHEN-

my inner-voice queries my senses, asking-

'What be this stroking my Brain'?

Silence....Sshhhhh...do you hear it?

THEN-

Silhouettes bearing brilliant rims
of silver on silver,
soon overcome
by shadows bleeding
their stark blackness, rapidly
like a nascent penumbra,
waiting ostensibly,
just beyond this
for this Lunar Eclipse,
disturbing my dream-field,
the imminent encroaching,
cycle obscene...

WHEN-

lost in the moment
my inner-voice silently-
strokes my mercurial Brain,
gently....................,
I am home.



©MMXV Frank J. Ryan, Jr.
_ All Rights Reserved _




*Revised Oct.15th,2016
Reposted Oct.19th,2016