Reverberations off the wall,
the ceiling echoes the same.
An uproar rises from the floor.
The heat builds and builds,
only water keeps them sane.
Ego beams out into the vacancy,
absorbed by everything near.
Like threads on a rug,
the floor becomes crowded.
so neat, so uniform.
Nothing can move,
except for one thing.
The object that the walls,
the ceiling and the floor
can do nothing but stare at.
The overwhelming satisfaction,
felt as if everlasting.
No comments:
Post a Comment