At the Great Museum
I swept away the cobwebs,
from my still dreaming mind.
Chugging a cup of obsidian caffeine,
I watched Brother Sun’s climb;
the clouds gave way to pastel colors,
framed in white-silver.
Light-play on the horizon danced before my drowsy eyes
and my third eye filmed a scene like no other;
the people in the clouds, watching me, watching them;
morphing into a thousand stories;
told me tales, centuries old.
We are stories, in the heavens;
universal mind, immortalized in colors of nature;
we are both unique and original, works;
priceless in value;
unduplicated art in the eternal museum.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2018
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