platonic ponderings


i recall

that when I was a child

the scroll atop my dresser

appeared to be a lion on the wall

and even as i grew

and knew

that it was but a shadow

still i puzzled o’er the shape


caught up in believing

that wood was somehow true

i yearned for it

to hold the shape of its creator

and cease its frightful roar


and now that i’m all grown

and know

it is the dance of light through form

that twists

the beauty of a carving

into fear


i can perhaps too easily

roll over, close my eyes

or focus on the light


but what of that lion on the wall?


what is it that the scroll unfurls

when bathed in nighttime’s light

what is it

that she beckons me to read


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: