"clarity"
A whisper once lost in static
now finds its echo in the open air.
Doors unknocked begin to creak,
hinges remembering purpose.
Credentials stripped of costume,
the scoundrel stands bare—
not noble, not false,
just human in the storm.
The fifth season passes,
leaving behind a wet silence
and thunder that prances
instead of roars.
Reality bends, yes—
but even crooked lines
can sketch a truth.
D may not equal L × W,
but the shape still holds.
Powerlines tangle,
yet light arrives.
Synapses fire, and
something connects.
This is clarity—
not the absence of confusion,
but its quiet companion
waiting beneath the noise.
.

.
Hopefully this poem draws
Hopefully this poem draws reading into a quiet threshold where confusion doesn’t vanish but softens, making room for a gentler understanding. Through shifts between tangible detail and abstract reflection, it could lead us through moments that feel at once strange and familiar, like discovering hidden doors between rooms we’ve always known. Rather than chasing definitive answers, the poem tries to settle into the companionship of uncertainty, and suggest that meaning can hold its shape even when the lines refuse to be straight. Perhaps it comes close to achieving this.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver