Lightning Strike – [Stream of Consciousness Poem]

I romanticized storms all my life, until I saw within myself a lightning strike shattering me. The fractals of my psyche flew out of reach. I felt their razor edges dig into the thinnest barriers of my consciousness, forcing me to scream, laugh, weep, rage, and die repeatedly. Those fractals seized my imagination at the most inconvenient of times and also so conveniently, like when I’m in front of a blank canvas or a blank screen or floating in silence and the agony pours from my fingers or my voice and temporarily, I’m relieved. Perhaps that romanticization lingers, but when I remember that lightning strike, I weep over all I’ve gained and all I’ve lost. It’s an endless confusion, an enchanting chaos; it’s a heartbreaking echo of what I know now as my greatest fear: instantaneous and concentrated instability without escape or hope.

Photo by Frank Cone on Pexels.com

More Poetry

Prose of The High Priestess

Elemental Magic – Fire

I’m Awake Again

A Plea To Death


Just Checking In – [Just Me]

First, I just want to say I’m really grateful for all the visitors I get on blog, who I’m noticing are mostly occult and metaphysics enthusiasts! I’m glad my posts have caught your attention and I hope they were helpful. Second, there have been a lot of website changes. I’m trying to polish the platform […]

Website Changes

Why must WordPress be so…the way it is? *sigh* Well, made some site changes. More to come… KL

Poetry Is Permission – Just Me

In simple conversations with others, I mute myself unintentionally… …and it feels involuntary because I’m the type that wants to spill my heart’s contents. I just feel like when I’m around the majority of the people in my life, they have shown me what they really care or don’t care about through rejection, belittlement, invalidation, […]

Sonnet by Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson (Artist Recognition)

I had not thought of violets late,The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feetIn wistful April days, when lovers mateAnd wander through the fields in raptures sweet.The thought of violets meant florists’ shops,And bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine;And garish lights, and mincing little fopsAnd cabarets and soaps, and deadening wines.So far from […]

In the Reading Room by David Ferry (Artist Recognition)

Alone in the library room, even when othersAre there in the room, alone, except for themselves:There is the illusion of peace; the air in the roomIs stilled; there are reading lights on the tables,Looking as if they’re reading, looking as ifThey’re studying the text, and understanding, Shedding light on what the words are saying;But under […]

Leave a Reply