Her sky is made of silver,
and her stars are made of foam.
She dreams.
Into the peace of her dream
comes suddenly a great dark shape, cleaving the heavens above! It passes in
bare moments, leaving behind it a tormented trail.
And with it a strange
creature, thrashing as it falls from the sky into her domain. Into herdomain!
In her dream she remembers her outrage, tastes it anew.
She seizes it and holds it
still, despite its desperate thrashing. Now she sees it is a mere mortal,
a man, fallen into her realm by chance and not design. She holds
its face close and gazes deeply upon it. It is dying. Dying. Such is the fate
of such beings, so she is told. Shortly it will enter the long blackness that,
for her, is not fated except by choice.
Dreaming of it now, she
remembers the slow access of a strange emotion roused in her by the creature.
Angered, half-disgusted, half-pitying, she thrusts it up, up, up into the sky
from where it came. It thrashes more, but as the moments pass it seems to calm.
She returns to her realm,
leaving the man embedded in the surging sky. Then comes the
cleaving shape once more, and at last the invader is gone.
Underwater, she dreams
beneath a sky of silver.
She dreams, and longs for
his return.
You can find a full listing of David's books - available for Kindle - here.
David, Wow. This was beautiful. I love the sea and have both a deep abiding respect and a sense of awe for it's power and life presence. Your poem struck me in just the right place, that reminded me of all that I hold dear about this most wonderful part of our earth home. Thank you.
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