The sky is an endless portrait, with sweeps of smooth golden paint across the blue sky
Where the sun s
e
t
s, as if it’s f l o a t i ng in a vast ocean.
Where its engulfing waters can both create and destroy.
There is a nostalgic peace, where nothing but nature moves.
The wind blows softly against my face, as the shadows cast by the sun burn within my soul.
As the sun scatters it's bright blare, it dazzles me.
But high above, beyond the azure,
I have wrapped myself, in its elegant beauty.
Alone I lie, for endless hours
Waiting for the golden sun to sink, wildly searching for a place to call home
The cost of the content I feel is priceless
The ongoing time heals the wound, of the sky and its scars, that it must give to see the night.
Where it’s destructive imagination roams in red and golden dreams,
that fade quickly, as if the sky is one large ember.
Where happiness and sadness come together as one...
...the moon and it’s sun~
P.s this is my photography..
YOU ARE READING
qasida|poetry
Poesíaqaṣīdah| First recorded in 1810-20, qasida is an Arabic poem, usually in monorhyme, that may be satirical, elegiac, threatening, or laudatory. These are my poems written from my heart and how I see and feel about things in my life.
