New Sun, New Day.

A molten gold drop for an eye,

She was a bird that smelled of fire.

Her feathers shone amber

Like jewels, or lava.

As if the swirling smoke and flame,

Had escaped the ring of the burning sun

And clung to her, dancing.

 

She was a small flame,

But the air would burn under her wings

As she tried to fly

Until it rotted black and fell,

Charred.

Her touch was only friction.

The other birds were cool and

Expansive as the sea.

They would rinse the same air with a mist

Seal up the seared holes,

While this little flame left fiery currents

That singed the ice, but she never flew.

 

But once,

It rained and rained

And she dimmed and flickered,

Reduced to a subdued red glimmer.

While the other birds felt restored,

A fresh sheen – elemental blue.

 

The rain sank down endlessly,

The long daylight wept as well

And even when the sunset met with the storm

It did not end.

It was somber and dark.

 

The blue mixed with the grey mixed with the dark

Until it was all an extinguished dead mass.

And then the sun let out a lone ray –

Before it was quenched by the dark

 

And it set her on fire.

 

And as she finally flew across the dark

The darkness darkened still,

So a bright red streak remained amongst the ash and stars

And her incendiary flight was brilliant and still lasts.

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The Sky Is Another Ocean

I made my own colour

A dainty blue, pastel layered

Marbled with midnight colour

It is my colour, sky,

My stars, me.

 

Her colour is similar,

It looks more beautiful. 

They love her colour

A deep sea and a lagoon

I am submerged in her colour

It is so beautiful.

 

I want to paint myself her colour.

I want to feel like her colour.

I know my blue is close, blue skies and waters.

A shade of difference, a nuance

I keep trying.

 

My sky clouds up, grey, rotting, falling,

Her ocean remains clear, azure crystal.

The breeze ruffles her waves

But shakes me, does not let me escape my blue.

I am stuck

I want to be displaced but it is killing me.

 

I realize

That blue cannot be me

Because this blue is me

I look at my blue.

It is a pretty blue. 

 

But under the light that falls on us

That blue shines more

It dances and glistens

The waves sing and roar.

She is ethereal.

While I flicker and fade.

Maybe later the light will change.

Or it will go out, and my stars will roar.

 

I like my blue.

I like her blue.

The ocean and the sky are different,

Both are beautiful.

Imagination

A carnival of some sort had grown:

Stalls lined the streets in a smile,

Light danced above; a jeweled crown.

 

The shops were painted:

Eccentric, electric, mystic.

And flags hung above, like tropical birds,

A melody that clung like a scent.

 

Moons were arranged on table tops,

A purple orb, a giant disk, shining twin rocks.

Another shop had a tray of masks,

A looping frown, a crescent laugh.

Then there were wings. 

And chimes and shells and flowers and

Gardens and streams and hills and –

All could be found there.

And all was lost there.

 

It was all made of mirror, of dreams.

But then Earth caught up; the others entered,

The mirrors clouded, weren’t themselves,

They refused to obey. But-

The others had come in with hammers and time.

          The mirrors were smashed.

                         The shops cascaded down

                                  The melody screamed and died.

And by the time it was all done,

Only dust lingered in the air.

 

The imagination withered and there was no more rain.

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