A HOLE IN THE SUN
Dancers in the sun’s light
Amaze my privileged sight
And fill my heart with delight.
Floating in some physical void,
Dazzling the spectacle they lord;
Visible in the air I cannot avoid.
What I see likens a light dust,
Entertaining my eyes’ own lust
As the ray blows them all out.
A comet must have just gone by
And beamed pass my open eye,
From the bright splendor up high.
Its mild rays’ lonely lights tread
On a woven lit path boldly made
To awaken the soul’s long dead.
The mystery is doubt’s glory
That yields an affectionate story
Daring every notion’s theory.
Single hell, triple fell;
Wiggled yet it didn’t jell.
Oh, what rings that little bell
That tries and ever fails to tell?
Silly days made our teens,
Sorting out our teething genes.
Over those moons, new till old
Our hormones shiver their cold.
Tasting all those many dishes;
Many we met with their witches,
Others we borrowed and mended,
But lots we created and trended.
The sting of disappointments sore,
Betrayal and pain and much more.
Ageing fear is sour but caught;
Yet still we trove amidst death.
To all morrows we cherished
That date we shared perished,
And thank it so for that spice
It puts into this new date so nice.
Where the eagles dare
The vulture does fear.
We’re weaklings there,
Patience stole our lair.
Anthills grew where
A colony learns to bear.
That beach is so near
When a lost ship cheer.
Wisdom is the Owl’s,
Opened eyed it saw
Cooking sun bowels
Blurs its sight more.
Little shows the moon,
Like stars in the dark.
To hunt it glides as soon
As dusk shows its back.
The prey that hides
From shine of day
See less of the rides
And the Owl’s hurray.
The chimps’re gaily as will ever
As the fauna king will rule never.
Penned in a checkered metal home,
Their chatter and roar just a hum.
Huge trumpeters cupped for show
As archaic aquatic lizard’s flow.
Their mud puddles not more free
Than the walled rivers to be or see.
Eagle soars only in its mind
And serpents share their kind.
All the skies they see and saw
Lost like their choices as before.
The world is that common mirror
That our reflection bounces off.
All these people we all so follow
Always seem to show us enough.
When I see my reflections ever,
I climbed your mountain so rare.
Then I found honour owns never
And where you were come I sir.
That man isn’t God;
Who flaunts not his might,
That secret is mere mud;
To the truth I can bite.
Silence as a weapon is my right;
The trophy of loot in man’s fight.