Dry grass smouldering,
smoke spiralling up the sky,
nostalgia solidifying in the heart
like rocks of scoria from boiling lava.
An eerie feeling oozing through the pores
forming drops of cool soothing light
holding me in its albino hands.
The colour of light –
is it phantom white, or
a potpourri of sensations?
I remember,
in my tender days
all colours were red.
An effervescent cherry-red radiance
coloured the passions of my heart.
Seven Seas confluencing in the soul,
water throbbing in the expanse of the sea,
sky emptying its azure desires in the sea,
stillness at the heart of the sea –
a placid cauldron of pure life!
That day I met myself -
the mystic in red radiance!
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
Dry grass smouldering,
smoke spiralling up the sky,
nostalgia solidifying in the heart
like rocks of scoria from boiling lava.
An eerie feeling oozing through the pores
forming drops of cool soothing light
holding me in its albino hands.
The colour of light –
is it phantom white, or
a potpourri of sensations?
I remember,
in my tender days
all colours were red.
An effervescent cherry-red radiance
coloured the passions of my heart.
Seven Seas confluencing in the soul,
water throbbing in the expanse of the sea,
sky emptying its azure desires in the sea,
stillness at the heart of the sea –
a placid cauldron of pure life!
That day I met myself -
the mystic in red radiance!
Request permission to use this poem