Pull the seed from the fruit, the bleeding rock
The red flesh of pulp, the salty tears from the eyeball
Split yourself in a dilemma, and your eternal song
Will prosper in the afterglow
There, you see a forest of paintings uplifted
Drowning in mother's quietness
The hills spilled weeping moonlight upon us
Burrowed into the sky of our bones
Beholden arms sewed to the music of death
In the sky's harness, our bodies are featherless
Lifeless shapes in an orchestra of cries
Watch your dizzy head spin, loop and sink
Burnish the edges and your teeth in their finery
Smoke and stain, promises wilt
Sore feet, continue on, blistered and tired
Everything around you gets smaller
But the roar of thunder eclipsed in memory
Is infinitely sweeter than honey in a daydream
Everything spins and I'm wondering where I am
In this mute wonderland, this moving reality
These oceans are true, beating hearts
Driving fast into the crux of the night, bereft
I'm falling into you, falling into you
I can't stop it, this undying love, unnamed
I won't betray your cuts, your wandering feet
Unwinding pulses, wrapped in earth, our sleepless eyes
Are butterflies gently whispering in cloud dust
Closer we move, closer with every touch.
- Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: January 11th, 2022 17:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Comments1
Lots of choice images here. Your work is often like a puzzle, challenges to the mind and the heart... can hills spill moonlight? Yes, they can, you nailed it! And cries can be an orchestra... and if you say so, butterflies can whisper!
Always good to hear from you my man!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.