moonbeams tease my soul to sing a muse
beauty from above summons my spirit to dance
i watch a bird, and pet a dog wagging his tail
soft sea’s silence, in my being, echoes a yell
against the caravan of untruth and fraud
wit in me frees self from the prison of head
there the bard sat alone in a daydream
with a future sketched in pencil of cream
many things in life that wound and hurt
but mercy, today, opened a pane for that poet
while only well burned ashes was left behind
allowing him, now, the sleep, to defend
* Photograph by Gitanjali Victor.
No comments:
Post a Comment