strewn in patterns, like cotton balls
stretched or comet tails etched within the blue,
and eyes perceive the weave,
the substance of nature’s random thoughts
upon a blank luminous canvas.
I can but hold this moving, evolving
in my mind and I wonder
what random thoughts they are,
what hand does move them and why,
as I in awe of their visage,
open heart and soul to their being.
A bird calls from way up high,
as if to say hello, or perhaps know
I am watching closely this open sky,
and what does that flighted dream aspire,
when all its being is freedom flight alone,
and me, planted firmly on the ground,
dream back that wish of flight.
Perhaps tis me alone that proffers sky,
from my mind what I witness,
all what I wish in beauty’s eye,
and delusions they are in truth,
yet in my mind the solutions to my bliss,
my seeing what moves this thirsty soul.
May be all resides within,
and eyes are just akin to mind’s will,
and what I hold to heart
just the start of what I want, in scope,
the hope of striving and learning on this planet
devised by thoughts so wry, I cannot know.
I love the sky, its endless change and depth
so infinitely woven in my mind,
so poignant in time, beating down the truth,
the ruse and all the lies I abide,
just to reside in comfort of my being,
ignorance a scheme of human bliss.
Tony DeLorger © 2017