- Books, Literature, and Writing
White - Poem (revised)
There is a door at the end of my room that unlocks
the path to the valleys. a cold brass knob tingles to
the touch; like an electric wave flowing through every
fibre of me.
Bright red chakras are glowing diamonds in the dark,
one, two, three...humming notes of my breath take me
deep into a trance. I am numb, my mind a blank page.
I walk on water, float on air, sun on my skin, wind through
my hair, I am gone from here. Gone from the pain of losing
you, far away from the image of your polished garland framed
face that hangs on my wall.
I have awakened my senses; if I were a bird, I would fly away.
But I am not a bird, so my soul wanders aimlessly. My heart
no longer bleeds. No more tears, no more screams,
no more pain, I am finally free.
The body restores as my temple, burns have healed, bruises
have vanished, the cuts are no longer deep.
A blinding light, my world no longer black.
No more burdens, no more regrets I am pure ―
like the colour White.