By: Dr. Pragya Suman
Dark Cypress are looming above, soon they will puncture the sky, then the dazzling Venus will give a white smile. Ethereal electrons in orbit are swirling waves of the madman that have engulfed the whole stars of infinity. The tiny thatched houses with spiky minarets and their owners mock him and call him Madman.
Soon Vincent will give them relief as hills are going to be crowned in his canopy. He is awaiting the crescent moon to complete the cycle.
Moonbeams are in full photons, which will pervade the skull of a madman. Just peeping in the skull, a milky way is spread in the bottom and gambol wavelets of a live ocean are percolating the bony chips. An impressionist would soon arise to paint the dark soul.
The stark white soul is entering the astral world, deep door of the moon.
Bio: Dr. Pragya Suman
Pragya Suman is from India and a doctor by profession.
Writing is her passion.
She is winner of Gideon poetry award of 2020.
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Very nice, Pragya. It reminds me of https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52577/monet-refuses-the-operation-56d231289e6db. I do like how you shift the perspective between the objective (if there is such a thing) and the mad, with the unstated idea that the latter sees a tense beauty.