Friday, January 28, 2011

royal sunday*

Somehow the patterns of my mind collected
As I travelled through my day,
But I never saw you sneaking in,
I never saw you enter,
There beneath the open sky
And all the freakish fray.

Though God knows you were only ever thoughts away,
In any fleeting moment
Of any patient day.
You never were my best thought
By daytime or by night,
But always a morning's fantasy,
An evening's melodic delight.

Somehow the balance of my mind turned over unexpected
As dream-skin hugged reality's bones
And everything just melted.
And all the Venice colours burst,
My bloodlust unaffected.

The ocean smiled as its hands caught the wind
And they both pushed my feet to make sandal-prints there
Where the beat of the drum-circle raced with my heart
And they met with your own in the air.

Your vision kept flashing and tearing apart
As my eyes blinked to see you,
As the sun dazed my mind,
And before long you passed me in lone regal line.
I couldn't ignore you, oh where would I start?

So I turned and I touched you and disturbed your rhythm
With dusty brown words like sand stars in your hair,
To hold for you some faint, lasting confession
And leave its imprint there.

And soon enough I closed my mouth—
And bitter taste upon my tongue,
I ran ecstatic into the sea.
With some odd hunger, wandered aimlessly,
Ever tied like a puppet to my destiny.

Oh to play her Majesty, the Queen, on royal Sunday!
Sweet, limitless, my dreams,
But they'd trap me again one day,
Shoeless walking in the sand,
With empty hope in empty hand.

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