Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Creation


A blank sheet
A rusty blade
Cuts and slashes
Patterns, I make.

My violent mind
My defiant strokes
The sheet of paper
Is all but broke.

Twisting
Folding
Pinching
Scrunching.

A mashed ball
In my palm
A mind rests
Finally, calm.

Oh what destruction!
The paper's worn
Like a tortured woman:
Her heart, torn.

The ball of paper
Above a flame
Shadows on the wall
Patterns they make!

Dancing figures
The actions, the vigour!
A theatre in motion
A mark of creation!



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