Synaesthesia
My senses are like five petals on a curious flower,
Or five voices on a silken string:
They merge and work in harmony,
Paint a reflection of the world.
Yet if I look in closer,
Inwards, inside myself,
I see that each is clearer than clarity,
That none are shrouded by the rest.
I look at the sun
As he sinks down
In an arc below sky
And touches the sea then, he falls further down
To lie asleep in her heart.
As I do,
Blue and orange, scarlet, gold
Settle in the evening sky
Like birds, they come to rest.
And as I watch the colours,
Each has a note, a tone, a voice
Which form a chord no human could notate.
I see the colours,
Hear the chord
And a scent wafts down to me
More secret than a shadow,
A time before the past,
A vision of beyond the future.
As I see the colours,
Hear the chord
Smell the scent,
A leaf of velvet,
A tightly woven web of gossamer
Comes to rest around me.
As I see the colours,
Hear the chord,
Smell the scent
And feel the leaf-like web of velvet gossamer,
A taste of fire,
Of beauty,
Of eternity,
Of softest coarseness
And of dreams
Spreads softly through my inner self.
Now, the moon rises from the sea
And takes her place upon the sky.
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