Colors and Illusions

Colors and Illusions

No one ever asked me if the sky is really blue.

Nor did anyone exclaim about the dark changes in hue.

Nor do blind children alarm at gathering storms in clouds of black.

And what romantic seafarer could not wonder about the reds,

“Is the horizon bursting into flames as it is consumed by the sun’s threads?"

Of all the times one travels, to then sit and ponder the moment’s worth;

the journey itself, is made more precious by the fellow travelers one shares mirth

and folly with while discovering along the wondering way that fear is an illusion

and that happiness is but a chance encounter of perception, in a time and a place,

where one understands that geography itself, blends into a oneness without a face.

Day and Night: irresistible forces each conceding to the other’s presence

and so, time slips by leaving behind whatever was;

tempting the Now with the illusion that time is of the essence.

Here we are in the moment. There is enterprise here -

between the graying strands of daylight

and the moonless night

before the ancient overseer

and beyond the sky blue light...

Home, is as intimate as inner prayer

or as distant as an unreachable horizon;

monoliths formed with stones of romance and nightmare

before disintegrating within the stores of memory’s ware.

Loss, any loss has a familiar story

however, each one is set in unfamiliar circumstance; so sorry

grieving is hard - even as loss drives the heart to hell in a blank trance

waiting for the forgiving words that are somehow estranged in the scars of the heart

as the rivers of tears drown out the questions of the illusionary art

asking, “Is there blue in the waters or is the blue all in your mind?"