“No one sings my song anymore”
It was a choral effort
And concerted endeavor,
Plucking strings and
Sticking out an elbow, to and fro,
Combining the orchestra,
Every note in flow to the bow.
Stranded in the stands
There is an impossible howl in the vacuum,
A band lingers on like before
With puffed out cheeks flinging fingers.
Yet, they are like phantoms –
The droning movements of sand dunes
With little regard as I sink into tuneless torpor.
No one wants to sing my song anymore.
“An ocean of sparkles”
Minerals purse my lips
And the wiley orb lets me chase you.
A shallow sinking into the buoyancy of the refracting,
Sumptuous, uncharted land.
Each sparkle induces a hypnotic veil,
Submerged into a certain somnolence
Whereby knots are unclenched and touch
Is exfoliated to feel the drift and an eager
Ascension in the mist –
I gape my mouth in a contemplative yawn.
Oxygen nestles next to the prisms spray
And the voluminous revelations under the ocean’s display.
In the body surging beneath the surface – through the sparkles –
it is always spring.
The mingling water a din, a roar,
Ready to pounce on the next glimmer
With destiny at every endless parameter.