The poet pinches his pen in trance,
eyes closed, eyelids in perfect harmony
From his chair, he ventures into his mind.
What does he see?
A miniature window in the darkness,
A light source in the abyss.
Clenching the frame,
The scenery changes.
Surrounded by lustrous Green leaves,
He is standing by a stream.
Its water clear as crystal;
Its womb’s transparent.
Everything it touched, it cleansed.
Healing the land as it traveled.
Sensing a coursing passion,
He reaches for his pen.
The scenery gone,
His note before him.
No longer a void canvas
But a lovely painting.
A new world,
A poem.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED @ Kelvin Jasi, 2023
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