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Poetry's paradox
It is eternally a mind altering thought
that of poetry's paradox in every moment born,
its multicoloured wings spawn this age of floating ashes...
flashes of the other side of what awaits our words,
what awaits our hearts a part of a whole different world.
Unfurled everyday upon our eager lips
within our kisses and our wishes that sweep our souls
we are consoled by love in her paradoxical cloak,
invoked by love's deprive..yet alive
waiting willingly in the tears of our lover's cry.
I have beheld the world in my eyes
in a moments breath on either side
where contrast ideas collide in a mind full of sky..
where twinkling stars cast their gaze
and sunlit days turn to nights of rain.
We are captured by the frame of time.
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