Meditative Monk-Inkblot Poetry

I penned this brevity for a contest last year about this same time. It was a great exercise to try and write a 50-word response using one of Rorschach’s Inkblots as inspiration, so I extend this challenge to you. Pick a blot and see what follows. Be sure to link your creations to my post so I can read your response.

The meditative monk
held his teepee pose for centuries;
local vermin feasted on his feet.
Resolve kindled a question–Why do we exist?
A dirty platform awaiting an answer.

Until today, hands gnarled and tender,
parted the flickering clouds of disbelief.
Truth was bestowed:
Souls are meant to burn.
Our faces are flames.

© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved


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