Metaphysical Poetry Box

Diving into this

Metaphysical box,

What can I see?

What can I see?

A garden, a grocer’s,

Some friends with a fish-tank,

The colour of emeralds,

Defined beyond belief;

Or is it

Lust, passion,

A jealousy of the same colour?

There’s been loss too,

Along with a certain

C-H-R-I-S.

Shh!

What is it?

Do you see it?

The concrete,

The elements,

Or simply a scene?

A tale of the fantasies,

I know, lies deep in

My box;

How a mouse-dance and

A moonbeam

Are one and the same,

A riddle,

A remnant,

Or a child's book and game.

What lies in my story?

Who is there to tell?

But me:

The author,

The artist,

It’s my box,

And in my head,

There it lies,

Amongst the threads,

Music, stories, pieces

Of a jigsaw so precious.

Take my hand,

Metaphorically,

Let us both

Journey to the magic

Box in my brain;

It’s just my imagination.

The End

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