Clouds like tufts of cotton scattered on a dome
there is so much that’s hidden
and yet, the streaks of light coming through
its softness, a reminder, that so many pieces
of us are wrapped inside.
It’s better to look at the sky, as soulful hymns
tear apart the violent gusts,
greeting the vast white chiffon of day,
and before you know it, the leafy green treetops
accentuated in contrast of colour
as though asking for price of admission—
it’s a funny thing to both unravel the fibres of
one’s being and be afraid.
But wait. I have studied the human psyche all
my life, chosen its words
and wielded in return a poem of truth;
something incisive, prophetic and bold,
perceptively pink so as to match the blush
on one’s cheeks,
I cannot say, it’s something that was planned.
The sun, who has witnessed the development smirks;
I have never craved for ways
that don’t bode well with my disposition,
never craved for what isn’t mine,
a sort of darkness that is battled on a daily basis,
the key here
is to embrace it fully, so much so that light within us
extinguishes the dark completely—
it’s a blend of mauve belief and orange tenacity.
Oh look; the wood thrush is singing.
Photo credits: Picture taken last Sunday on Eid-ul-Adha.
Linda hosts at dVerse and invites us to choose and write inspired by a quote from
Truman Capote, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’ Come join us! ❤️
Posted for Poetics: Breakfast at Tiffany’s @dVerse Poets Pub