Given that I think I wrote all of one poem in the past 3 years, this was odd, indeed (especially after all those years of 250/yr).
However, it did successfully squirt of out my brain and onto the page, and here it is for all to see (click on the "v"):
ONLY SHADOW FOLDING
five essences
five enlightenings
unfolding now
in unfamiliar modes;
our center smears,
dulling, blending,
a sand mandala
brushed to sea
so hard to reach
that locus point
once so familiar,
so necessary,
now vaguely hovered,
clad by mist,
and indistinctly
set in mind
upon that wall
will cracks now form,
drove by pressures
unsuspected?
this was denied,
the self exiled
from concerting those depths,
occluding neath their veil
myriad lines skew vision
obliterating grids
by which we've steered
our paths through being;
doubt and anguish,
mania, stress & fear
flood in relentless
and sweep away all maps
the realms that never synch
the always outer zones
persist for us
a place of closing
a cell within the keep
neither frame will fit
only shadow folding
until darkness is complete
- Brendan Tripp
02/11/2020
Copyright © 2020 by Brendan Tripp
