Uppity
kind the purple sky.
i want to fall up into its aerial cushions,
intoxicate the call of my heart
with ethereal grapes.
i want to be a frond
on a slender cloud,
undulating to hover so gently,
till peace holds sway,
able to ponder the wink of woke stars,
sip of their mysterious hopscotch,
as they ornament, one by one,
the incipient night.
if only i could cease to worry
with the magnificent noblesse
of the silvering moon,
in spite of its wounds,
and if only i could walk
the liquid cobblestones it casts
across a pandemonium
of ocean chasms.
wouldn’t it be marvelous, if i did,
in the most holy yet god-free
sense of the word--
to walk over
that great yawn of colossal fears,
and awaken healed, unencumbered,
within a nest of dawn.
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11/29/23 ... fixed a typo ...
11/ 16 (later) ... "woke" replaces "igniting"
11/16 "fears" replaces "voids" "ornament" replaces "dapple" "purple sky" replaces "sky's purple."
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