Poetry

My mind like a weather system

When my mind smiles it wafts

like a cloudy day-

scudding charcoal and

light puffing grey splotches across

a brilliant blue sky.

Endless light and clarity, tempered

by such soft patches of gentle

in-distinction.

On darker days the pressure builds

and storm clouds loom,

ominous and foreboding of

what is to come-

first rumblings of deepest thunder

like a growl deep in the throat

of the elemental forces,

rising to claps of pure fury and

then forks of white-hot lightening

illuminating the very earths cracks

and turning every rain drop

into sharpest glass,

every detail shocked into still relief

lighting up the landscape

in chilling black and white,

sending all the animals

scurrying in fright.

Other days still there are only mists,

vast vague mists

which obscure these otherwise

intricate shades and shifting tapestries

of complexities.

Such shifting faces does the

mind convey;

at night-time I watch

the moons pale glow and see

her face framed

by loose strands of silver hair

lighting up the deepest black,

alongside the alien and utterly improbable

starlight of distant

far off

galaxies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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