Roots reaching in Thirst
She acted-spontaneous
Limbs longing for light.
Image of 'Bamboo Canopy' via Wikimedia Commons October 19, 2015 in Public Domain.
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Roots reaching in Thirst
She acted-spontaneous
Limbs longing for light.
Image of 'Bamboo Canopy' via Wikimedia Commons October 19, 2015 in Public Domain.
Whereby
a storm comes ambling aloft
which builds upon itself and
You are there to
Witness the change
in atmosphere
Almost a reconsideration of
Truth, as it pours down
Over body and soul.
One becomes
Baffled by the way
Sound carries or
Falls
depending upon
the time of day or night while
those spinning hours
make a hum under
Thoughts that echo
Passing through
this chambered grey space.
We are
Well,
enveloped
under this veil
Trapped in body and mind
the heartbeat is
Small comfort
Persistent as gravity
the weight we hold
Ourselves
up against wind and wave
Enduring the
Resilience
Even while
strewn about
We become
overflowing, dispersing
Violently sometimes
Breaking down into bits, drops and
Grains-
Eroding to dust
before settling
Eventually
becoming a mountain
Once again.
Painting by Marianne North (1830-1890) - View near Tijuca, Brazil, Granite Boulders in the Foreground - MN821 - Marianne North Gallery, Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew via Wikimedia Commons in Public Domain.
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...