More than the night sky
Misses the stars,
And the wind misses
Leaves to blow through.
More than the beach
Misses the retreating wave,
And cobblestone streets,
The clacking of horseshoes.
Often I don't know what year it is
Often I'm surprised by the color of my eyes
I've sought afflatus in the fay of a candle flame
You said you prefer a light that's alive
Nearly ever am I sure of anything
Adamantine essentia reaps the ache of fortune's prod
To set free our kite letting numen pull the line
To let a loved one suffer is the burden of God
Mirrors when self-facing bear fruit as the new earth
The squint of the jesters here playing for fun
To walk with another as blithe spirit living
To stay the infinite quietude of things left undone
Soon I'll close my eyes
And fall into sleep
With heavy snow falls
And the candle stays lit-
The floorboards creak with footsteps,
Warm air drifts from the vents.
I hear the airstream blow
Of a passing plane far away,
But to planes looking down
My room isn't seen-
Nor the dark house or the town,
Just a few lights through the trees.
Fall snow, fall, and bury this room,
Wrap me in your muting cocoon
Of serene white.
Who's looking out the window
At five thousand feet
And seeing way down
A few lights through the trees,
And I no longer know
Which is dream nor where I am
I feel the gentle buzz
Of the life in my hands,
And the snow keeps burying me in.
Fingertips beat a crooning
Melody upon ivory keys,
As wandering fingers paint symbols
On laid open palms.
Sean Phillips was a medical student and neurobiologist at UW-Madison who dropped out of school after experiencing a profound shift in consciousness and moved to NYC. He self-published his first book of poetry, Eye of Reason in 2022 and continues writing as well as running Rounding Edges - an educational platform for cultivating inner peace through free virtual guided meditations, discussions, and Q&A. Website: https://www.roundingedges.com/.