He makes his roost on an uprooted and a flamboyant tree.
The wingless bird is longing to fly.
They divide the earth and inside the barriers build their own prisons
In different colors and shapes it seems.
They fly in dreams along the illusory sky and smile, cry, sing and dance.
The grown-up offspring struggle to flutter over their new roost.
The elders isolate in their old gloomy shacks and lament.
The dumb earth knows everything,
Yet her dialogue is a dead language in morbidity.
Do we create our prisons in order to dream our way out or do we dream and in our dreams build ourselves prisons? A very thought provoking piece of work. Human life, purpose and civilisation(s) broken down into highly meaningful and interrelated imagery with a moral slant throughout.. Clever and poetic. I really like this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To be free to dream is to be free indeed. Earth has no power to stop the penning of a poem, the painting of a picture or the solitary song. Take care, Nimal. Warm regards, Sandra