The small lake seated at the top of the mountain,
what is there?
Few climb the steep slopes with hope, to drink the highest water,
You could read poetry so many ways;
does it really mean an interpretation
so personal to our sense of limitations
or does it have a universal assignation?
Quintessence of dust
a glimpse in the dusk
a movement that's still
a fragrance that remembers
Beneath the superficial forms;
Beneath the thoughts shouting I understand;
Why does the sun blaze down
from horizon to horizon
and the seas heave with
white crested azure
He stood there seemingly just a shadow of himself,
they were all just shadows.
They moved this way and that,
Life came round and round it came
some played serious some a game
people died and babies came
as life continued round again.
Flames of raging lust,
thoughts of fiery dust,
sparkling kindled hearts
blazing in the dark.