Nimbus

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The Geography of this barren sky has no boulders, no rivers

high and heaped clouds, buzzing right in my ear

are beckoners of echoes in a dream


 

Light-full mirror

Transmogrified by the prism of rain

Shallow face that shuns me again

                as I hear my voice conveyed by solar winged carts

                set afire once and again

                in the woe of Apollo


 

Never again the ironic gust of wind will blow my faith

*

whilst

*

it

disintegrates in the stolid contemplation

of this depthless heaven, earthly boundary of a gazed piece of mind

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