The Anti-Day

The anti-day is set to begin,
From nothing all will appear to rise,
We set our eyes on a dark blueprint,
Then walk outside to look at the air.

There are reasons in all reactions,
For each season something must suffer,
There is distance when you get too close,
Clarity comes when one steps aside.

Still the flow of memory does start,
To fill the voids from events to be,
Selecting that which it wants to see,
Choosing just the right things to utter.

With artifice we strove to survive,
We picked apples during winter storms,
We had picnics under falling rains,
And believed in the words we whispered.

The anti-day here before us now,
Is not when we choose to quit and die,
There are trees who need our shaking hands,
For their leaves need to be collected.

To step into the air just now is,
Exactly what now should not be done,
Wings have not yet been dreamt of to fly,
Nor worms that recompose living life. 
 
There is method in staying nearby,
Through pure light colors will be revealed,
Revelation means to close ones’s eyes,
So the ghosts of metaphors might play.

Once a smile always a laugh will be,
There are tigers lost in our cities,
I saw moss growing around my beard,
Your hand needs my blonde hair to stroke.

From mountains we must never look down,
To eat is to share the earthly ground,
When lights go on something stops to breath,
Swim in wisdom’s lakes but not to drown.

So my little loving magic friend,
This is not the anti-day we thought,
I need you in my pocket breathing,
Pulling levers in my aching heart.

I need your shoulders to rely on,
And you need mine to sometimes cry on,
Grab a hold of the man you reflect,
Worship in dust an exploding star.

Copyright © Yorn Called | Year Posted 2015

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