shards of ice drape the rail like a flimsy medieval robe
the sea shivers in icy flux, too cold to boldly roar.
an icy film coats the pier. it's now a beached blue whale.
it's the blue-white-green-grey of winter's lonely heart-
the stark, sharp nothingness that calls for rest.
but yonder-in that horizon space-lie vast riches, untold
heat and fire and sun and gold. tribal dancing, clapping, stamping.
the burnt sienna, chestnut, pink, merge beautifully into
warmth. The colour of the heart. Its dancing flames,
sparks of sunrays. The gentle All that calls for life.
No comments:
Post a Comment