Posts Tagged ‘picture’

If I could spread my Arms

and embrace the Land:

the Hills- Fields- Mountains-

Forests both small and grand-

 

I would then hold

a Treasure unknown

by so many- though-

It has always- been.

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Yellow fingers sweep the clouds away,

extend to brush my skin-

I feel the gentle, warm caress.

The world illuminates:

houses, fields, trees, lakes brightened.

Snow dissipates, ice dwindles in drips,

both glint all the same.

Here is the change

as everything wakes from cold slumber

and will stir into flower and fervor.

This will thrill

like the sun, anxiety

of spring undoing

the old curse

of cold overstayed.

And the green pushes up,

unfurls like a map of stars,

and ribbed transparent stalactites

fall to shatter into

the earth. A new

song will flit over the hills.

My golden house is adorned with flames,

it licks itself with them, wistfully cleaning

blemishes which are not there.

Fires rise and crackle.

The whole cacophony, the whole sound

of these flames could timid a lion.

Even though I among these precious metals-

orange brighter than any morning,

red deeper and more passionate than a heartbeat

or a kiss, I find myself

looking out at the worlds between the flames.

How minuscule they are-

a yellow thumb, a dark brown eye,

a fleck of glowing white,

pinpricks…

I’m afraid I know nothing else

than shades of fire

and my own face.

Indeed, there are others glowing,

held in comfort of white embers

and enthused by the ceaseless dancing of flames,

but I find myself not with vigor of flame,

but with emptiness, that same emptiness

as the black reaching

between those worlds and specks of light, unifying us,

and separating us

all the same.

To some extent my world is falling

out of balance, or I am simply reeling

out of mind.

I look up. Stars have warped into yellow-white

peacock feathers, luminous and blooming,

spreading threads of curling light.

My eyes sting.

I look at the darkening world.

The horizon glows purple

against blue haze of night.

What would be trees

are gnarled and twisted spikes

jutting up from the hills

like ugly skyscrapers.

They seem to be cut from black paper.

They are shadows dancing in a hot rain.

My eyes itch.

The whole landscape swells and distorts.

Obsidian hills and shadow-trees and purple sky

are bleeding together, melting

into a uniform nothing.

A ball of shadows and dark colors.

I rub my eyes.

Tears fall.

My world rights itself.

My midnight is not black.

It is dark blue–

darkest blue, heart of the ocean.

It enfolds me.

I am robed in this shadowless

cover. We have made a covenant.

This moonless dark blue

holds me like a mother holds her child.

My nostrils prickle with scent of earth.

This is

what only I can perceive.

This sheath of dark water,

solid as air,

I move through it like cloth.

It wraps me,

claims me.

I cannot tell if my eyes are open.

It whispers they’re not.

It doesn’t matter.

Night has taken over me.