This is a migraine aura poem. I get persistent migraine auras. So it is a lot of visual strangeness going on. And I have Visual Snow, which is a constant static in the vision.
And her world cascaded with
geometrical edges,
ripples and waves.
Raindrops of gold
and seas of orange.
And she said,
‘You will never see the
shining undulating sea
of iridescent colors dance.
Or suffer the crashing storm of pain
that consumes your soul by inches.
It is you who is blind
in my world.’
The Wyrd 