The chariot of the sun reaches
At the end of the day’s race,
And the eyes follow the trace
Of the sun god’s declination
And stay on the golden palace
In the dazzling adumbration
By the waterfalls of Elysium.
Tag: poem
-
the good people
Thunder and lightning swirling
The palace of heaven tumbling
The Angels of Mutiny are falling
Falling below, downward, falling
into the sea and the earth.
While the light of Divine Grace
still flickers on the scraped wings,
They become the Good People
too vivacious to be in Hell.
-
eavesdropping
The wind hears my thoughts
and tells me not to say them,
for words will fly out to them,
seize their sheer gossamer wings
sparkling tinsels of dream drops,
and break them before they fly
to the sky and meet my stars.
-
Lilt lullaby
The wind of shrill west rides
On the scarlet waves of sunset,
The sun sinks into the edges
Of the horizon in a soft silhouette,
The longing for the unknown
Mysterious, amorphous, gorgeous
Springs from the wings of Pegasus.
-
Twister
The mind has one door
To various worlds of which
Each illusionist is brought
An elixir for lasting euphoria
In the likeness of gossamer truth,
Fleeting, transitory, apart, adrift
Never realized but only chased.
-
beginning
Look at the sky and find a day moon,
Go and catch the borrower with a pin,
Tell me where all pasts have gone,
Or who has tricked the fire demon,
Teach me to hear nature’s whisper,
And to walk in the sky, beautiful.
You must be logged in to post a comment.