Le Paysage Bleu, 1949 By Marc Chagall

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all movements sweep
perpetual motion
the moon swims towards me, then away
we orbit this moment, nearer collision
the caress something to chase
yet she slips from my grasp
time runs in reverse
tantalised by the beginning
tormented by the end
allow me to linger
to live in the in-between
not knowing if you approach the
beginning or the end
both beautiful
in their own heart wrenching way
the lateness of the hour
makes my mind whirr
confusion overtakes any reality
I succumb to dreams
my waking hour steadily approaching
so real is she, tangible
taken into the blue
I commit to search the sea and the sky
tomorrow
so many flowers
upon or beneath them she rests
outside my dreams
out of reach
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Copyright © Di11y Da11y | Year Posted 2023
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