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Thursday, June 6, 2013

A Poetic Tincture

Once again combining paper and pen,
Daily mixing of the two -
In the hopes to
Use the gifts that were given;

To express the daily subtle beauty,
Seen within rhyme-
Seen within line-
The concealed sacred simplicity;

Is revealed most evident – implicitly.
With few miscalculations,
To this poetic calcination;
Ancients used fire, moderns – electricity.

Every single ingredient of the mixture
Is emotionally purest;
Must be the best,
To ensure a productive descriptive picture.

The cars pass gracefully by.
Pedestrians prance, some will glance.
Cyclists dance as they advance.
These sights are perceived in an eye.

The bluish-gray sky above,
Mirrors the concrete below.
A constantly new show!
The conclusion? None know.
The cool breeze is love.

Still alchemists toil away,
Hoping their potions,
And heartfelt devotions;
Will cause someone afflicted
Blinded, optically restricted,
To see the beauty of today.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker