Imperfections
Sparks are living in
you
and they set off
within imperfections
of two faceted
stones, that won‘t
fit with one
another.
Sometimes I still
don't see...
How it works, this
attraction:
it declines, and
again it recovers.
In me linden has
bloomed, there was
many spring rain,
filling puddles
again with new
hopes.
While the soft
ground was trying to
make
a captured spark
sprout,
even the whistling
got lost in the tree
tops.
Well, along all your
words are inaudible.
How it mimics the
melody, mimics the
bird-
it attempts to
repeat, to invite
the light in.
Fish emerge from the
depth of the puddles
gasping words, but a
sound resides in the
lungs.
We're so random. So,
my dear, how it
works, are we even a
match?
Will it live with my
shyness, will it
breath in
all thoughts. I own
beings of shadows
with no shape by
themselves,
overflowing serenity
in dark ravine,
without struggles of
light they won’t
dance, they won’t
melt.
I still blow you a
petal to catch.
Copyright ©
E. Ray | Year Posted 2014
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