/ Brushstrokes

The bow

The bow

Grey flat empty sky, and beige earth
that is so much less than sky
and a big white rim of godforsaken light.

The great white nothing that was and is.

Symbol of all things that ever were
before they were; and of all that could be
in the purity of one man’s sight.

JMW Turner, 'The Rainbow'

For the next poem in this sequence, click here

The bow
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