BeholderI will stroll down moonbeam rowthe stars my guiding lightswith each step my dreams will growfar beyond this nightI will trace the universeconstellations in my handinfinity preserved in versestardust turned to manI will walk the morning sunto the edge of the very last raylet it fill me breath to lungI will shine away
Painting the SkyMother Nature:Effortless in her grace,Flawless in her beauty,The world a canvas,With her palate of infinite color,Any method or tool at her disposal.She is the master of pieces,The composer of ancient lyric,The writer of every story,The artisan of all trades.She paints the heavens at dawnWith hues of violet, orange and rose,And strains the clouds on the horizon.The rising sun’s light reflecting off their surfaces,Cascading vibrance onto the weary eyesOf those in slumber, and those awoken long before.She calls the birds to sing the melodiesKnown to them by heart,And as they face the new morning,They bravely sing the intricate verse,A language all their own,But one that all are blessed to hear.She takes her brush and streaks it across the clouds,And carefully flicking the moisture down to earthShe adorns all things with the finest crystalline water,Dew covering the grasses,The weaving of spiders,The flowers untouched by crude hands.She gently blows a sin
ForgottenBlot the fetid spews of AutumnEvery blossom once soft; Now rottenVegetation once lush; Now soddenSwallowed by earth; A promise solemnAll those fallen will birth new pollenEach lives on; be naught forgotten..
SuprasolarWe call it the Local Group,this, our neighborhood of galaxies,in which only a single staramong billionsis even remotely reachable.And we tell ourselvesto dream big.That hard workwill get us there.But on the cosmic scaleour collective capacityis nothing.For every star in the Milky Way,all four hundred billion or more,there is a galaxy.Even the Local Groupis nothing.Yet since dreams are orbitalwe hold our breath to reach them.And when we perish in the vacuumthe stars still burneverything that matters.
NaiadI am of the tall kelp and hard cliffs madeI do not bow, I do not breakI am coldness, I am hungerNo one is older, no one is youngerMy soul is pure yet deep as the lakeInto which Bedivere returned the magic blade.If you find me hiding in the reedDo not be frightened by my blue-grey faceMen who come wish to cover me in dressesBut I’m fine, my dignity saved by my black tressesWomen may leave an offering of delicate laceOr gold coins, as if my hunger is one of greed.But don’t come too close to the water brinkI am the guardian of all those who sleepEternally in seas dark and rivers wildI embrace every spurned lover and unwanted childAnd drag them down, for my sisters to keepClose to their hearts, their blood to drink.
each autumn is another springautumns where every leaf isa fumbling wildflower andevery deep sunset where colours bleedagainst the horizon,pools of melted copper andshreds of cloud like glittering morningdawns:i hope you realise how eachautumn is another springhowthree blackbirds fly across painted skies,tearing up the dust ican still taste the peppermint the sugarhills and every midnight, dandelions theydance in my chalice ofchipped china coffee mugs.whilst islept, bluebells, baby crocusbuds swept apeek round my doorway andI didn't prepare for a drenched bouquet ofsilk netted soaked morning lights onmy doorstep wheni'm still dreaming of circledstreet-lamp hues as soft as whispers thathang high above thedew drops in the air-come take me there.
DisdainThe statues crumbledAt the might of the earthShe holds such disdainTowards our shattered idols of marble.The likeness of the starsGifted by the godsErected upon her surface,But intolerant is she.She shakes so harshlyAnd spits up her coreBetrayed, she feels,As we put pale ghosts before her.
Winds of ChangeContact calm,You feel me upon your face as you open the window.A soft breeze,So delicate to which a flower petal cannot compare.Whisper now,For that voice you hear in the air so euphonious.Blinding turn,A twist of rage begins my cycle, a force to reckon with.Wrathful howl,A cyclone of fury rips across, destruction in my wake.Moving on,Calm replaced with chaos, removing everything in sight.I die down,Torrential convergence from wild back to mild.
Cloudy DesiresThe moon has fled andthe stars are hiding behind a curtainof black,as the clouds above scare them awaywith their whips of lightingand their thunderous voices,shouting angrily at the world belowas the sky above remains unreachable.But then they start rainingtears upon the broken earthand you see that the clouds weep for life,because they too are broken whenthe sun comes out in morning andburns them awayfor the night comes back to life latershining strong light upon the world withgentle silver light of the unreachable.
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