Overcloud | Day 90
How far is it advanced, rose to a thorn, thorn from a rose
For In view of attribution, everything continues and grows
Days are clouded with liquid, but it has only started to rain
Traveling to the lost celestial lairs, eternity awaits my brain
Who ask sympathetically how I have been living my life
Here is the answer, I have been set off into a deep strife
Sailing into a thousand stars hanging upon a dim moon
As the energy of the universe recedes into the afternoon
I dance into a frustrated tomorrow's lazy hazy overcloud
For in an obscure perception, I uncover myself in a crowd
With billowing angels trapped inside a terrestrial sphere
The journey before me is a long one, but I know nowhere
Dear me, I have come to no direction and a storm arises
On a flight of thoughts and aspirations, full of surprises
Oh great mighty sea, place your wet lips upon this land
And direct up to the sky, my seeds planted upon the land
Oh colorful golden sun, put more color in my gray clothes
And compose the waters warm, so when I bath it soothes
Oh great mighty wind, interest my visions upon my kite
And wave cool my resting place, for when I sleep at night
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This poem is dense and profound and at the same time comfortably light in his pretensions.
I find it particularly distinct from what I've previously read from you.
I find a little bit of subconscious images here, that come from an automatic response from a mind subject to inquiry.
I imagine this is something some desert people would have in their prayers. Prayers for rain, for a good harvest, for the end of a long summer.
Heat is punishing that land mercilessly but the call for rain is already being answered in the first stanza.
The wet season would mean better sleep, a more colorful landscape, a more fruitful toil and a rest for sore eyes and sore souls and sore hearts.
There's a lot more images that need to be allowed to rest in order to be absorbed. This poem needs a couple more readings so all that subtext decants in our mind.
Here the author make himself part of the land and equates his clothes to the land.
This last line is particularly poignant and I can really relate.
What will be the sediment of all this water? Perhaps hope, deliverance and joy.
A nice piece of poetry that needs and deserves a better dissection than that which I am doing right now.
Another wonderful piece by you friend
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