Poezja

I just wonder how the clouds draw things
Of vintages from what is in the heavens;
Those clouds inspire me to write poetry:
Great shoreline images, what an artist you are to be!
This one is very beautiful---the reflection seems great.
What a compendious view! How heavens touch the earth!
This one's a great gift for rarity and flew for a moment.

As I continue: This one is expressive of a course,
A wondrous imagery of a fading past and an anchor
Of a great destiny; an epitome of great beginnings;
And expressive passion to new-found hope
And great vicissitudes----very symbolic indeed;
A voyage to eternity: a semblance of something great
Beyond the surface of one of the wildest solemnities;
A concourse of clouds illumined the succinct fallacies
Of great crown, a new course to navigate a future's past.

It’s so symbolic, so touching. Indeed, what would it be then?
Just beyond that indigo line that demarcates heavens and earth?
What is that sensing light that elucidates a gloomy travel above?
Beauty, yes, it is the beauty of your inner self:
It’s so infinite, alluring, and sweet.

Oh dark clouds of the universe, you have expressed your hope
From that gentle light behind the back of your frightful flight;
You lift up a heart that seems lazy to recognize
The images you've drawn in your way,
You’ve lifted a senseless passion at the beginning;
And carry it out from the last corner of its own---
Oh sweet, unfermented gentle clouds---
The arrays of heaven give you hope in one but single stroke.

Oh, beauty, beauty at its best passion! My mind strolls
Your past path and tried to find the meaning of it
When you don't find it either.
I've cleave that passionate expression
That the clouds have worn and drawn;
And cuddled the light that is too left to sink down;
But, every bit of light that dances in the dark
Will always be there to mingle
The tiny bits that sparkle, and then sown!

Oh, the shuttle is about to loosen its anchor to the deep:
Touch the deepest meaning, hold a cuddling lap
Beneath that illumined crib---to stay anchored.
Yes, stay anchored, and what is then beneath?
You may find that that deepness has beauty of its own:
A light of its own; a mystery of its own
That no one can discover, but a chosen one from a few.

Indeed, my fear left my senses as the shuttle
Continue to row its finest travel;
Where my tracks silently obviate the pasquinade
Of other's passion or my passion---illuminating;
Yes, illuminating as my steps towards that light
Finally take the stage of a grateful heart:
It’s a diligent bastion to nowhere but myself.

Indeed. Indeed, the tracks were my own.
The fears of my own: an imagery of my very own view;
It’s like a passion of a chandeliers’ show.
Oh, my light! Oh, my shuttle has gone out
To introduce that perfectibility even beyond
Those corners where tiny ventures conquer
The whole parody caused by my imaginative fears.
Oh, yes, the rocks just silently weep, and then rest.
The straws of heavens finally kneel down a crest!

©Geopoet