Watch
the sky
slowly unfold
in an array of hues
across the edges of the world
touching every single thing underneath
for only just a moment, and then move
altering its entire pattern
enough to blur and shift
the whole pattern
of the
sky
Each
sunset
a new palette
on which the day is drawn
each instant a virgin canvas
waiting for the touch of an unseen brush
the moving finger that once having writ
becomes part of the scene it paints
creation, creator
insoluble.
The ink,
Life.
When
the sky
has turned to black
the colors are not lost;
if you look close enough, they last
but change, evolve and will not stay the same
no matter how you wish and pray;
they are not permafast
except in dreams
of the
blind.
See
these hues
that seem fragile
and so impermanent
are only simple reflections
of what we choose to imagine
exists only in some clear black and white
but cannot be contained in should and ought.
outside what we can see, the light
contains a wide spectrum
impossible
outside
clouds.
04 JUN 2004
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