Tuesday, 8 February 2022

The Curving Plane


Swept away
By fantastic stories
Fuelled by real passions
And tormented psyches—
Off to the land of
Deluded realities
And false guidance—
But yonder,
Yet again,
The sun doth rise,
The fiery lighthouse
Dawns on the curving plane,
(The sphere of continuity),
The bountiful rock
Of uncountable yesterdays.
A full breath of lush air
Does impregnate the night
And release the day
Of its natural charms and perfumes,
Its atmospheric gift to Mother,
Its strings and fields of oneness.

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