
After the sordid purple ache fades
which lies mean within the shadow
of my dream, the day grows hot
and the wind blows cool whispers
through the cracks in the forest's
crooked trees.
Two boys chant in stormy mists
above seismic seas and outstretched
valleys. The tiny language of all below
means little above ribbons of blue, red,
and pink...torched across the Spring sky.
The still, rust colored sun
starts to set and shine one
last time on green leaves, and
the buds of new flowers beginning
to form.
I throw back my head, tearing off my
sunglasses and hat to worship
the light still seen from the
disappearing sun.
I now see there's something much
bigger than me. I am free.
-GB