Saturday, January 15, 2011


Eerie notes from a Pan flute
cascade from her alien eyes.
Eyes open like the morning,
innocent in chaos wonder.

If the eyes of Dawn fell on me,
I would feel the sun spreading
warm light and visions of rites,
I would feel the breeze blowing
aromas of bliss from the old sea,
I would feel an ancient stirring
in colored veins of grotto marble.

But like a statue in Elysium dream,
Dawn is beyond my tangible touch.

No comments:

Post a Comment