Prelude.
A new sun rose
Empty, alone.
A blue sky window
Was cracked in between.
A wind without sails
Pretended to be,
And the ocean's table
Touched sky by its seam.
I. New Sun
Who am I?
Who is this me, this thing of mine,
To whom I'm intertwined?
I'm sure someday,
It will just go away.
What is "be"?
This just being in front of me
Between the "to be" and me?
I guess I'll know
If it decides to show.
Where is "here"?
Where is this place I feel so near -
That makes it more unclear?
There is no way,
I could (actually) say.
New sunlight
Climbs the world,
In its wake
Great firebirds.
New sunlight
Whips the seas,
Surface gold,
And submarine.
New sunlight
Burns the sky,
And all is born
In my eyes.
Forests, springs,
Rivers and roads
Formed out of ashes,
Of grey and charcoal.
Surely a painting,
But an amputee,
Amputated by the dimensions three.
Each day I watch new sun go down,
The land bereave its golden crown,
But the world seems undying.
Where is this world of re-dying light,
This space where endings escape the night?
Is it there, where I always return?
In search of a meaning,
Not finding my own,
Yet absolving all need there
Is to atone.
I talk to myself
Because there's no God,
My reason and want
Always ten feet apart.
Who are you?
Some different kind of being spewed,
Inside the false and true -
Who'll just die,
Without knowing why.
(And) are you real?
Or simply made to make me feel
Like I'm the "one" in here?
You might be,
Simply all I see.
(Or) Maybe your just me,
Trapped inside my mystery
Where I can't disagree -
I think that's true,
I been here before...?
Interlude.
A new sun rose,
Empty, alone,
A blue sky window
Was cracked in between
A wind without sails,
Pretended to be,
And the ocean's table
Touched sky by its seam.
But will the sky watch over me?