The wake of life.
To drift upon the mists of time
without the need for words or rhyme
without the need for love to be
engraved with so much ecstasy,
from hour to hour through lace clad shine
without the need for yours or mine
in sacred luminosity
without the need to feel, or see.
To dream upon a golden moon
without a sense of late or soon
without the stars to paint the sky
without the need for where, or why,
to be so simply borne away
upon the moments of each day
on silent sighs of solitude
where loneliness just can't intrude.
To wake before the cockerel's crow
to taste the morning's tender glow
before the ribboned sun is born
to dance in fields of golden corn,
to wander on through diamond green
without the need for what has been
to search until truth comes to me
with sanctified simplicity.
To laugh beneath the rain cloud's tears
to use my dreams to cloak my fears
to feel the dew upon my lips
like morning's tender fingertips,
to hide behind this mask of mine
of such elaborate design
until at last I understand
that life, though cast is yet unplanned...
See more poems by WHITBYPOET1
View this poem
Comment on this poem