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Alin May 2015
She shaped as she
on top of that one mountain
carrying all waters of the world
with one of her infinite hands
on top of her head
under that night sky
an offering she was or it
to the moon

the carrier of half moon a copper plate
the lover the moon a reflection of herself
inspiring beauty as a shine
she could reach to the non condensed matter
of a planet where you and I come from
pure light of our home to refract the unseen
that could travel as fast as love
to awaken the rainbow
of our combined heart
a rainbow that could appear
on the world after rain

Rain was her true name
she meditated as her name
for you
as you wished for her
to inspire the smells of condensed fume
she evaporated under that moon

Next day
I guess on a Sunday
one day after a sunny bright cool day
I woke up
not opening my eyes
I knew
the sun would be behind the clouds
I knew unmoving how air felt
I did not know why
until questioning stopped
until my choice of unacceptance of
what is -
what I am -
what I created to be for that day -
gave up
for that was not an affordable weight
morning called instead
maybe a gift the greens said
as they got deeper darker in their greenness
to be praised by the clouds
settled as if they have always been  on these skies
they always do so arrogant
it’s their nature I say
they are as is required to be
I did not mind
and
it rained

and
it rained
and rained
and rained
and I knew
I was awake
and I knew
I rained
and rained
and rained
I rained
for you
Alin May 2015
Poetry invalidated paranoia
and made it real within
It was good for some
It was bad for some
It was ‘poetry just’
for some

the latter did not want to know poetry as such*

Nature as poetry
needs no validation
Poetry as nature
needs validation

not for poetry - not for its nature - not for us

but by Us

Us - have shelves
Shelves have reserved space
once unorganized - once unlabeled
Confusion it creates

but Dear

there is no label today
and there never will be

not because we are outta paper
not because those shelves are dusty

Shelves exist not
for nature and its ways
there is not a single name
to be issued to…

and there never will be

all names are us
us a symbol just
make it holy
because
when at now only
we are free
and
We turned the age already

Here we stand
at an empty page

— The End —