Eyes Of A Microscope Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Sculptures of figures not yet born are coming to mind,
taking thought into museums of creativity.

Living among portraits of the past, now all thinking
of intense times that were had in earlier days.

A concentration of particles being taken and looked at
through the eyes of a microscope, leaving only moments
of thought lying unseen by it's lens.

Sensing productivity of such an encounter has a mind
filling with a myriad of possibilities.

Never taking away for a moment, the blessed events of
another invention in the face of death.