And Here I Am Alive I Must Write It..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

last night you made a promise
not to ruin your eyes again early morning
reading some poems
and starting too to make some more

as a mode of
your expression thinking that another day shall pass

making this candle that burns itself
shorter by another
millimeter,

the metaphors of life are not that bad,
i suppose,
there is another way to looking at things and
putting the words to make it
beautiful though


sad,

you must have heard how the blind man's
path changed when the lonely girl in black suit changed
the words,

' it is a beautiful day and i can't see it'

this shall be the same with me,

or us,
our eyes are not ours, borrowed from their creators &
the makers demand that it must see
what we have not seen before that they must speak
not only the beautiful but the noble
the glorious
& the sublime
or the divine which we feel and yet
cannot fully grasp

the meaning is there lurking like a butterfly under a leaf
that covers it from the last night heaviness
of rain
and then when this darkness is gone
dew clings like pearls which we should write about

the eyes are weary and painful
but who cares for now: it is a beautiful day and the words
are waiting

and now i must say it again,

' i have seen the sun,
i feel its warmth,
i have seen the blooming flowers,
the liveliness of the bees,
the grace of butterflies,


and you tending on the bromeliads
bends like a humble servant to the king of light-

and here i am alive by the window overlooking the whole picture
of life


i must write it.