In The Process Of Existence

In the mirror I saw a cup of colours,
Dying and living in the light of its neighbours.
A nameless darkness struck the gloaming,
One wondered and waited, forfeiting the lightness.
It is difficult to converse,
There is to know a certain majesty behind the
Gloaming, that differs like a diverse blessing
With divinity to meet the worlds in this life.

In the mirror is an ideal too religious,
A cloud of incense has been enraged
By the smells of a rose,
Wavering in the breezes of laughter.
Unwilling to move and respond,
The roses uplift us all with
Their stagnant beauty.

Divinity has entered the mirror of virtues,
One lifts the universal message to find.
The perfect being uplifts itself
With the similitude of living,
Twins and separate men must
Commandeer the battles to be fought
On the plane of existence.
Processes have to be in existence,
As well as in pure existence.

by Naveed Akram

Comments (2)

Tightly wound. Almost an elongated, cohesive version of an Imagist effort. The "gowns of black flies" is genius. A worthy read. Thx.
heartbreaking. stunning. visceral. thank you. eBu