When I am.

posted in: Poems 2014 | 0

A wind as thick as cream, whipped clouds sprint through the desert sky,

Our lives like sails, wrought tight as currents carry us,

Through centuries our memories, conveyed by this masterful sky,

All bound by atoms, tied together; time’s force,

The ocean in a drop; ancestry in a person, we remain one, united.


As I look towards the heavens, a million faces, from sky’s easel acknowledge me,

All still in the world today, all recycled elements,

It dawns on me, as the sun’s last trail sets to the west,

We are all dead, we are all vibrant, we are infinite.


In a world where gold leafs over age and the beautiful are not damned,

We are but a face on the book of walls.

A portrait of modern society’s making, masking the DNA of our peoples’ past.

When I hear the whistle of the wind, spiking window-panes,

I am reminded, I am not a cog in the machine, but within me, encoded, are millions of faces.

I am reminded that I am. I am infinite.


Quietening the many voices of persona, nature’s raw essence acts as inspiration.

Listening to a warbler, sweet summer days abound.

My mind is released and free from worry,

This sense of being, at oneness, not needing to connect the sentences.

This is me. I am. One. Infinite.

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