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Existence Falls Upon Us
Swimming through life in contorted motions and slicing maneuvers
Our existence falls down upon us in raindrops
Breezing, slicing through the air
Each hits the pavement
I let out a guttural scream
Whisper a sidelong phrase
Feel wires of eureka attach in my brain
I am nothing but the accumulated raindrops
Dry spells marked by desultory strolls
Along perrywinkle pavement, tongue parched
Hold a pencil the same way every day, 40 degrees
Then a raindrop hits — dagger lurch upright
Each smash on dry concrete
A movement of the body, the breath, the mind
I race forward in a sprint
Feet falling in unison with the drops
I race on, beckoning the rain
Inundate me with existence
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This poem is an example of what I like to call sublime dissonance, or the misinterpretation of something to the end that the viewer is overcome with a sense of beauty or profundity where none is actually there (or, the combination of intuitively unrelated descriptors, beyond the realm of reasonable metaphor, in a way that produces inexplicable beauty — this definition isn’t applicable here though).