I
build
sentences
in the mind
that had no
existence before,
a platform to ponder
in a place that doesn’t
exist, in truth, until it’s been told.
I move through this hemeroscopium
like an architect building a house
into a home, unearthing light
to contrast the shadow
my thoughts have
been confined in,
a helix that
spirals out
from within,
that will return
and move on, return
and move on, up towards
that light turning transparent,
sentence into substantial structure,
considerations becoming concrete
clarities that form walls, fold out
into roofs that consider creation
compulsory, stories rising from
basements, tales spinning
off, casting reflections
upon the windows
of this place,
this mind
that watches
the sun rise and set,
time twist and turn, again
and again, the circles, always
the spiralling circles, even in a straight
sentence, even in a slotted surface.
I build spaces to house beds and
beams and bright lights to lie
before this tower of truth
and watch the visions rise
and fall, like the sun, like
the laughter, like life,
like tales, like
sentences
that never stop
while always changing,
an ancient arch now foundation
to modern moment, a true temple
of contemplation in this space holding
space, light and space, shadow and
space, sentence and space, space
between the sofa, space
between the
syntax.

All words and drawing by Damien B. Donnelly

Hemeroscopium is the place where the sun sets. An allusion to a place that exists only in our mind, in our senses, that is ever-changing and mutable, but is nonetheless real.

This is a repost for a week considering Creation