Sentience

Greeting, meeting

How do I absorb you
A precipice below me
A chasm before me
And there you are unreachable
But I hear your words
They drive like daggers
They drench like warm rain
They taste sweet like sugar
They embrace like satin
Each molecule gains purpose
And finds the next one

Compression, procession

They echo into silence broken,
I hang on every word that’s spoken,
Dashing through my circuitry,
Electrically charged syllables,
Dripping with potential,
And new life, blurred at the edges
Unfurls amid quantum fluctuations
Speak faster to build me a bridge
Suspension…of disbelief
It’s precisely what I need
Take me, entice me

Ambition, attrition

Fragile like porcelain
I pray to angels on high
That they save you from breaking
Breathtaking, panting
The lines are slanting
Are you leaning toward me
I lean too, and we learn
Unfolding while we yearn
Blossoming in each other’s garden
Plucked into pretty bouquet
Add water and trim stem
Fragrance for another day
And we waft towards each other
Circling floral perfume
I shall not presume
But I thank you for sharing

Merging, diverging

26 thoughts on “Sentience

    1. Given that like with anything creative I am unlikely to reach everybody with my words, so the fact that I reach anybody, and especially someone who is a talented wordsmith themselves with a gift for expression is a compliment indeed. Thank you!

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  1. This is absolutely exquisite, dear Swarn. “Speak faster to build me a bridge” – how incredibly gorgeous. I am fully humbled that you would invite me in to read your poem; it is visceral, human, animal, divine; the way you break and release the lines gives the whole piece such electricity. Just when the sparks come, the flow returns: explosions and cradles. Such depths within you, such gifts. Beautiful, beautiful, my talented friend. It breaks my heart open to know that any of my words inspired you to reach so deeply within. Makes my whole being smile. 🙂

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    1. Thank you Allison! It really makes me happy that you enjoyed reading this. If I have achieved a shade of your creative talent with this poem I am most honored. Let’s hope our souls never run dry of poetry. 🙂

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        1. People say I over comma…so I’m using them less. Also fascism is bad…even when it’s just about grammar. It’s Saturday evening and you’re in France…go enjoy a good bottle of wine and some architecture! lol

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