It's funny the way the night tends to paint the world anew,
Cast in vibrant shades of magic and romance.
The same sun-bleached concrete you trace each morning,
The hectic coffee spots and drowsy store fronts,
Conceal the secret lives –
Of bees,
Swarming about their busy days, waiting for dusk,
Their hearts throbbing with energy and anticipation,
Something about the way the sunset
Runs its fingers along the horizon
Tousling the curls of dying sunlight,
Separating each strand of color.
The way the world seems to dance to a new rhythm,
How each second seems to fly by unnoticed,
And the way the heartbeats of dreamers seem to beat against the souls of your shoes,
And how the grass feels between your toes,
As you chase the calls of sirens on the winds and dance with fairies in the hallowed wood.
The way that colored lights peak through the trees, igniting the neon gases within you.
How volatile your spirit feels as it hails a comet and rides through the cosmos at break neck speeds,
Brushing up against stars and leaving craters on the moon.
How the next morning, you miss its lumpy surface –
And the way your stomach felt at zero gravity.
How blind you feel in the sunlight, when dawn peers through your curtains.
How clear the boundaries, boarders and lines are defined between our horizons,
That's the way mornings keep you honest, outlining the shapes of our bodies,
Circumscribing the circle in which we move,
How tired the buildings look, sagging under the weight of the sky,
And how surreal it all feels tracing your footsteps back along the riverbeds –
you rushed through the night before.
Traces of you remain where parts of you spilled over the embankments.
Like the petrified skeleton of a boat, half submerged in the plains of an ancient desert,
Remnants of a majestic sea buried in the sands of time,
And how distant and transparent your memories become until they slip through your fingers completely
Leaving nothing but a pungent stain on your restless soul.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoesíaThis year has been a year of dysfunctional relationships, not only with other people, but also myself. This has been a year of inspiration, disappointment , and ultimately, rediscovery. These poems reflect my need to delve into, understand, and ex...
