Another Ventriloquism

What speaks through me:
The weather has turned...
The windows open and close
With my whim; ignited, fragile
Bewildered by waves of broken radiance
Making their way through
Glass fields and visions...
Paternal, redistributed -
As if they were my emotions.
What speaks, speaks only as analogue
To experience, experiment -
Consciousness transformed through conscience...
Un-translated, un-translatable,
Hermetic, hidden, secret -
With no possible precision
Accessible across languages -
What speaks is risk, the Actress of the Night,
Pretending to introduce the day.
That’s what is called: a poem.

Another interesting read Peter. Nicely done.

Les

Thanks, Les. Just some things I've been thinking about for a few years.

cheers,

Peter