Turing Codes


Will is a fast forward motion,
remorse is a gaze from afar

Body is keen resistance,
mind a bodily residue

The now is riding a flying carpet,
in a dome built of breathless silence
lit by stars already succumbed

Each breath is a driving shower,
every step a tall story of ember

but I'm wrapping my head
and whatever is left
in thin bands of gray sheets of steel
carved with Turing codes of splendour

Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 62 times
Written on 2023-03-28 at 16:21

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Nathalia The PoetBay support member heart!
A great poem, well written.