Sunday, 14 September 2014

Blinded



What is the appeal I wonder
Why do I get pulled towards this light

This bright light that blinds my eyes
Its burn, scathing my skin to feel none
Its heat, alienating my sense of taste
The smell of fiery plasma depriving my nose
The sound of my burning skin deafening with its hiss

...
Yet I can neither feel the pain nor smell my torture
Nor taste my fate nor in the least hear nor see how it consumes me

For in that fleeting second 
In that one tiniest existence of time that seems barely possible to realize
I find the silence brought on by this overpowering sense of surrender my most prized reward
And without missing a beat, it enshrines me in a cocoon that lasts an infinity
From the last second I exist to the first second I cease to
And the rest  ...

... are her smiling eyes