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The Medium
Rays blind,
As I surface on celestial sands
Speaking in different tongues,
I think that this could be heaven
Darkness shines,
As I climb on gossamer hilltops
Singing in different pitches,
I think that this could be utopia
Frigidness implodes,
As I turn on past rage
Staring in different obsessions,
I think that this could be a downfall
Plague explodes
As I forget on life's importance
Stabbing in different wavelengths,
I think that this could be hell
But what is life, without the satanic or exultant?
What is life lacking that deplorable solvent? d—d
The taste of vengeance and the pang of guilt
There is no life between the extremes
For in the end,
Life becomes the medium of our wildest dreams
poem
by
Gabrielle Fleming
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