Bright spark, shining,
Light in the damp
And dirty cloud,
Warm glow's comfort,
Held in open hand,
Clings to grimy fingers
Give us this day,
Our daily ash,
Blackened lungs
And heroes spent.
Widow, tell me,
Of great and mighty Ajax,
Let him not be covered
By foul dirt, or glinting armour
Gifts of heaven.
Grimy fingers, clutching
Paper or swords,
I know not.
Dirty cloud, forebodes
A rapid doom,
From shining life
The scent of a summer storm by painting-with-wax, literature
Literature
The scent of a summer storm
The scent of a summer storm
Still lingers
In the roots of your hair
Breathing lullabies
And quiet love songs
To which your fingers dance
Across my skin
The ocean in your eyes
Grows deeper
And more treacherous
To my soul
Than any waters were to ships
Yet you sail calmly by
Towards a sunrise
Or a sunset
Or just a sky half full
[half empty]
Of light and shadow
Can you catch a star
In the palm of your hand?
Can you mould it
Into something new
Change it
Into a minute
Or an hour
Or even just a second?
Or are your hands
Already too heavy
Filled with bitumen
From when you fell
On the road
In the heat
And the damp
Of that summer storm?
I took a trip to outer space
In the hope of finding God
But I found myself alone
He wasn't in that place
When I returned to ground
I saw the world anew
Eyes open for the first time
My vision had been found
Only then did I see
That the sky was empty
That God was here with us
Trying to calm the sea