The Epic Sun
In search of the epic sun,
a morning that seldom comes,
I was here, holding a stick,
drawing lines in the sand,
desultory pictures, mirrored images
of the fragmented mind..
Clouds rolled over, carpeted the sea,
swallowed the sky.
The epic sun crawled behind the storm.
But here on the beach
white parasols left the ground,
floated in the sky.
Astounding,
the silence that followed.
The sun was now a lion's eye,
breathing behind the thickets of the forest,
The world vanished underneath the ground,
an encounter between the sun and me,
I was sinking in the sand,
waiting for the sun to pounce on me.
Thanks for the image Douglas Smith
In search of the epic sun,
a morning that seldom comes,
I was here, holding a stick,
drawing lines in the sand,
desultory pictures, mirrored images
of the fragmented mind..
Clouds rolled over, carpeted the sea,
swallowed the sky.
The epic sun crawled behind the storm.
But here on the beach
white parasols left the ground,
floated in the sky.
Astounding,
the silence that followed.
The sun was now a lion's eye,
breathing behind the thickets of the forest,
The world vanished underneath the ground,
an encounter between the sun and me,
I was sinking in the sand,
waiting for the sun to pounce on me.
Thanks for the image Douglas Smith
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