A Mirage

Mirage

 

Being in plain rest, I sight a thought for my dryness;
dunes of cold colours between which I look for a fountain.
Footprints! That might be a hint.
The time is passing or perhaps is acting;
and myself is the thing which I am finding here.

I look at a horizon where there seems to be a spring;
I take a moment to clear my sight and control my emotion.
The last stretch, careful my step.
I want to believe the waves there are not water but honey.
I approach and approach it,
but it doesn’t appear to be closer.

I am starting to think if it’s mere confusion
instead of that prayed conversation.
I am trying not to lose hope.
That key thing is to breathe deeply is told.
Also to strip the mind from some parts of dense fabric.
But nor even ooze I found behind the mirage.
At most some prudence or shyness,
and nothing like a pure pansy at all.

 

 

 

by a k v

 

 

 

 

by a k v