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Creation in the Hands of Oblivion
April 20, 2015
Rings coil, spiral, fade
Faceless, metamorphosis to the beast
Fangs lower to the ground
Cower from the flames
Sucked into satin
Sickly sweet, permeating its bones
Church bells ring out to the wings
Daisies line the eruption
Whitest white corrupted with purity
Lead and graphite covering prints
Lines from sleepless nights bleeding out
No longer evaporating to the sun
Knowing equality lies in the grave
Living to fight anyways
Yet winter is coming
Daisies fall to the storm
Nothing changes in their presence
© Stefanie G., Norwalk, CT
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This piece is one I wrote without any intended meaning. I did this to experiment with the concept of a poem's meaning. Since I did not write this with any intention, the meaning is created by the reader entirely. The e meaning of any story is arguably created solely by the reader. The author's purpose is merely to produce a medium open for interpertation.