Orb of Occurrences

Flame Orb by Deborah Glessner

smoldering in the fire of life,

my heart has revolted against

the sensible steps of society,

stipulated of, obsessed with time,

and thus my identity twists itself

into patterns, of pain and flame,

to fuel my passion, to feel, and

understand to believe, that

circles do not complete themselves,

every single time, they can be

arcs broken apart, inverted,

dispersed into shards of pictograms,

of criss-cross lines, deluged in colors of

confusion, representative of straying

from the path, becoming one

with the ostentation of this orb of occurrences,

out of control, beyond my hands,

thrown into the arms of air to last,

as long as it lasts


This is linked with Imaginary Garden with real toads’ Artistic Interpretations with Margaret- Orbs.

17 thoughts on “Orb of Occurrences

  1. Brendan says:

    This reads like a lament of modernity–a time of fractured and dissembling coherence–who doesn’t struggle to feel or think wholly in the midst of it. In “Circles,” Emerson suggested that our growth was one of continually larger circles encompassing the previous. But that may be a developmental fantasy of the 19th century, where in ours the circle is just too damn big to be overwrit by another. Hearts are like this, too … Nice write.


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