Inkling

This week's poem, as always, with a touch of Aphantasia.

---

An inkling
is a creature
not yet formed, 
still unwritten,
claws unbroken, sharp.
It waits in shadow,
watches the net
slowly sway 
at my side
as I wait. 

This one stands quiet,
and stays in the open.
A made choice not to run,
not to hide within 
the stand of bent stones
that surrounds us;
once hunted notions
now old ideas, petrified.
Still as trolls.
Lifeless.
Unborn. 

---

Thank you for reading. Here’s another poem.

My initial post has more about Aphantasia. Have a look, and the poems might make a different kind of sense.

Glimpses at the Dark

Please share this with any aphants you might have in your life. I am highly curious to know if any of this resonates with others whose mind’s eyes are dark.

—Alex

Glimpses at the Dark can be delivered every week.