For today’s prompt, write an exploration poem. Maybe you’re exploring a new land, the depths of quarks, outer space, the mind, the soul, etc. Your call. In fact, it could be said that most poems are an exploration of one sort or another. So get at it.
Turn out all the lights.
There is no light.
Grope up a surface, there cold,
there colder.
In the dark, the mind knocks out the back wall.
A wind doesn't rush in, but a space is then there available.
You are on the floor, kneeling. You feel the tile and know exactly
when it turns to ice.
You know there will be no door here ahead.
The door is behind you.
But what there is now is sky. So much of it -
the possibility of being lifted
from the surface of the world
into a dimension
that is as close as a hand brushing your cheek
that is the same in all aspects
as the real, but
there is something.
Don't ask.
Be lifted.
Turn into the new field.
Understand light as something
invisible.
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