Insight Poem by Dominic Windram

Insight



I'm lost in labyrinths filled with
The lamentations of angels.
The flashing signs & warnings
Evade my weary consciousness.
The spectral animals howl
In the vast desert of my soul.
In dreams I seek the curves of
Aphorisms & metaphors,
Yet I'm forever confined by
The syllogisms of straight lines.
No bold troubadour or wounded saint
Can capture Being's cryptic design;
They can only craft ornamental rhymes,
Or compose paltry hymns dipped in darkness.
No mortal artist or poet
Can trace the tortured genesis
Of the teeming realms of creation;
They can only weave frail fabrics
From the coarsest of materials.
This world's bleak limits weighs them down.

Friday, March 1, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: insight
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