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Ghost Orchid, Violet
"Ghost Orchid, Violet"
plumes of purple blue
like a burning bruise, spear through my mind
the heart waits for the fall Evermore
with open palms it’s bright core forever calls
the light is blinding like a Ghost
and it holds its fresh petalled orchid stretched out to me,
petals opening the folds of a mind’s ever present dream unfolding
from a shrouded poem, dark embers brightening, a small story glitters
the essence of roasted paper rises
clean and sharp it turns each guache passage
you can hear the pages flip nonchalantly
notes of ink lift the senses like a seductive perfume
plurals write their orchid meanings stretched
volatile pink yet vulnerable across the page
like a revolution violate turning slowly, then,
lights dim and flicker with terrible speed
plumes of purple blue, notes sing blue purple
like a bruise, spearing through my mind
piercing the heart that waits for its fall in strange accords
with open palms the bright core immersed in its evanescence calls
perceived at the shorter end
of the visible light spectrum
a shade of purple with a blueish hue
turns to you, stares you full on
the watchers behind their screens
sit and squander it all
they that think they know it all
bathed in virtuous better off than all
in the end Love
like a ghost orchid calls
like light for lost ships
from some distant shore
violet, it shines,
like the heart burning
its hot bright flame
that dream
that calls you further in
Candide Diderot. ‘25
Copyright ©
Candide Diderot
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