The deprivation of quiet respite it how this starts.
At first a restless feeling it imparts,
This verbal conflagration, burning through the night.
This dark destructive fire uses ink as its fuel;
The page burns, with heat burning higher.
The paper is conductive, the inferno`s binary tool.
Every new line swells the blaze. The growing flame
Creates a lyrically designed maze.
On the sheet, warmth dwells; sparks all along the frame.
Every symbol is an ember, all formations – coals,
Each verse vehemently rolls,
Stanzas flare – so nimble; and together they dismember –
The face of the pristine page, laying it to waste.
The initial mildness, is now a rage;
Searing all over the place, spreading with haste.
-Yet-
Deep within the frenzy`s wake, remains a strange charred
vision;
A rather odd sort of “l'art
pour l'art”,
The destruction (the fire would begin) is leaving a creative
provision.
The insipid initial perception (which was weary) has quickly
departed,
Left an alertness, from what the scorching started.
The consuming conception, only, selectively removed what was
dreary.
And as the combustion starts to fade, silently without an audible
sound;
A crescendo of an artistic, sight lays upon the ground.
The retrospect will hopefully reflect:
A fairly simple path (of rhythmic construction) appears to
have been laid.
Composed By: Andrew Drucker
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