Prismatica
You burning ray who
occupies the space between two stars,
your open palms are pouring
down a river of light.
Sweet water is running
down your cheeks
like two silver saws,
cutting and cutting away.
Barefoot on top of the watertower,
Where the wind moves in waves
and tides through the trees.
It lifts you and bends you
out into the open atmosphere.
Over the earth and
upwards! the glowing sky.
You are alive.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Prismatica, which
was posted on Dec 8, 2011 by
Preece.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"A collection of 6 poems about the colorful world."
This poem is filed under:
Free Verse
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