an escape line
lit with fire,
an arrow of smoke
unable to do evil.
Instead – a caress
for soft surfaces

where my gaze lays
while you breathe out
and particles grow smaller.
A hot spring in the mist,
burning waters
where my conscience
can rest.

My eyes are shut.
They have been for a while now.

The sun glares above me. Or is it?

I look at it, fixate on it. Through my eyelids,
a ring of light kisses the retina.
Phosphenes violently dance to a tune
I won’t ever be able to hear.
Firings of cells, electrical incitement,
a sudden elation of the occipital lobe –

I just know I love what I see.

The warmth under your feet:
there begins the ear.

originally published as part of LIMINAL PAINTINGS
a project by Scandebergs