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Upon a Gossamer Thread
Upon a gossamer thread
hangs a droplet—
refined, glossened, delicate.
Catches the eye as it dangles,
suspended
in the fore of a thick silhouette.
But how the perceptions
of a singular speck
are discarded and thrown
to the arms
of a dust-clouded conscience.
Seek hard and keen
in this haystack haze,
for deep lies the needle
that bears a sobering sting—
points through the veils;
through the ineffable everything;
through the maze
we build around ourselves.
Hark—heed the meek calling
of a child lost
in the overcrowded drowning outs
that a mother can so clearly hear—
to clutch the reconciled cost,
indebted to instinctive shouts;
to those short days
that long to reappear.
© Joseph Chin
#conscience #humanity #ego #innerchild #ego
hangs a droplet—
refined, glossened, delicate.
Catches the eye as it dangles,
suspended
in the fore of a thick silhouette.
But how the perceptions
of a singular speck
are discarded and thrown
to the arms
of a dust-clouded conscience.
Seek hard and keen
in this haystack haze,
for deep lies the needle
that bears a sobering sting—
points through the veils;
through the ineffable everything;
through the maze
we build around ourselves.
Hark—heed the meek calling
of a child lost
in the overcrowded drowning outs
that a mother can so clearly hear—
to clutch the reconciled cost,
indebted to instinctive shouts;
to those short days
that long to reappear.
© Joseph Chin
#conscience #humanity #ego #innerchild #ego
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