Imagination danced with joy,

in lurid, lost delight,

expansive and ephemeral;

reason did take flight.


No holding back or limiting,

no structure or restraint,

as consciousness abandoned,

the rules that others made.


In heady held expansiveness,

the world was born anew,

and all that was, discarded;

I lived my own deep truth.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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2 Responses to Lurid

  1. Brett says:

    Nice — reminds me of some of Emily Dickinson’s well-put words!

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