A Searching Light
A bright night,
transparent eyelids,
prismatic brain
on a turntable.
The night was too dark,
it had to grow new eyes,
it had to show its face,
to be found by the stars.
The heaven within
shone out.
A faceless man,
flew through the dome
of his skull.
After morning coffee,
that same man
still had to hunt
for misplaced glasses.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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