|Nara turns herself into a butterfly...|
Last night, as the sun slid down to the horizon, reality and fantasy were still firmly encamped on opposite shores. Clinging to middle ground, I resisted choosing sides. Until the stars--guides to mathematicians and dreamers--filled in the darkening canvas with a Van Gogh painting. Logic went fuzzy. Purple bled black.
Last night, as moon rode steeds of violet fluff, differences downsized. Ones and zeroes courted similes and metaphors. Code entwined with prose, an unholy entanglement shattered physical laws. Paradox collided with coastline, tossing ragged lines of poetry ashore. I gathered them like shells, stuffing pockets with syllables to be arranged tomorrow, when reason dawned.
Last night, I surfed. Dove into infinitely recursive fractal waves. Color so bright it burned my skin. Snatched up by an algorithm into glittering heaven. Arms morphed into wings that beat the air. Percussive beats launched chaotic collisions, gathered starlight into bouquets of photon flowers. Midnight's butterfly guzzled electric nectar.
Today, gritty-eyed and cotton-brained, recapturing that magic is like trying to snap a picture of a rainbow in black and white. I promise myself I'll kick this code habit before it has its teeth in me.
This bit of verse is salvaged from the mists of an adventure in playing at writing computer game scripts and is offered up as my contribution to dVerse Poets OpenLinkNight. Drop by to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.