Reflection Against The Sun

Catching sundrops in my hand,

Pitter, splatter, a golden dust,

Standing in the middle of my thoughts,

Amidst the median muddle of my mind.

Little somethings I can’t decide upon:

What’s good, what’s bad, what’s beautiful;

The simplest things just catch the eye,

Declaring life as wonderful.

Holding daylight in my soul,

Dancing to a hidden tune,

A piper’s sorrow, I won’t follow,

A hidden Angel in the room.

Statuesque and porcelain,

A world that’s made about one mask,

Down below the ants parade;

Watching, above, its archaic rhythm

Looks like studious footsteps

Climbing on and on around

My gazing figure, stone-still;

Time has lost its grasp,

As, standing on my way up,

Sunlight catches me alone at last.

The End

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