The Sublime

grasp about the sublime

He finds me, His darkened eyes of ubiquity.
I live, you see, on the blurred lines of liminality.
His strides prohibit every utterance of Sound,
His features; rods and cones could never compound.

His powerful hands will grasp you,
Overwhelming, draining your life through.
His incessant being is difficult to conceptualise,
Green will circle black till ecstasy takes His rise.

This is more than an esoteric allusion,
Slanted, conflicted lines of confusion.
This is the blueprint to my mind,
Labyrinths to which my thoughts are confined.

I let myself flow, psychological transgression,
My skin drinks up every touch; impression.
I feel it now, taking over my body, surging up my spine.
Erupting a single tear from each gleaming eye.

He is the sublime.

Author's Note

The identity of "Him" is deliberately ambiguous, enticing your own interpretation

Reviews

[sherwin]

Again good subject, great metaphors, and your point is well taken. I like your writing,you have talent and you have a vision wether clear or not at times i do not know but you are making form of it. Keep it up.