◊ Exhaustion ◊
Dropping from behind the moon.
The air is still and washed out clean.
It failed to make it Past
The dying monsoon.
In a circle, my minds will sit as
The scents of Sun and orange blooms
Dance within the atmosphere.
◊ Surprise ◊
Surging waves enlace my heart
Submerge me in flavors
Of grace and wonder.
The unthinkable approaches me,
And stares down my vessel;
Chooses me, for joy or sorrow,
Dare I say, I feel too special?
◊ Loneliness ◊
Surrounded with noise, with arms,
With eyes, yet not feeling known,
Or seen; yet not hearing anything
But my chanting bones.
This melody of breakage,
Of rattling with fear;
An untold wish to disappear.
◊ Connectedness ◊
Lighter than feathers,
Brighter than this planet’s colors
A palette of warm, and cold,
And neutral; Painting perfection.
A flock of eccentrics,
with crowns of marigold,
In whom I can see my own reflection.
Art is all Arthur Rackham’s.
SingulariT 