The kite fluttered in the air,
A single string tied it to the earth.
The kite sang a song of longing,
It sang a song of love.
The kite hummed a melody of the birds.
It's string, shone bright in the wind.
The kite fluttered in the high wind.
The kite fluttered inside me.
The dew glistened on the leaf.
The dawn arrived with its lustrous light.
The wet leaf soaked in the morning,
Though night was none the less pleasurable.
The leaf shook off the dew,
The seductive droplets, wanted no more.
It was a morning leaf now
And it smiled at me.
Finally my thoughts find words.
And I stand amidst the world.
It moves, I don't.
I move, it doesn't.
We complement each other.
I paint the wind.
It carries the streaks around.
Bright colors, waves, blots, smiles.
Single strands, thin, powerful.
Dripping with intensity.
Thin strands all around.
Magnanimous in their gestures.
Simple in their meaning.
Infinite in their existence.
Momentary is their presence.
Words often don't make sense.
They just tumble out,
And it's even funnier
Because the chatter is silent,
And it's the nib that does the talking.
Words often limit our thoughts
For they have a structure
And poetry is simply an attempt
at forging the Unknown.
An extempore play,
When the mind is set loose
Upon one's world.
Is this poetry?
I do not know.
I'll call it words, structured.
To soothe me early this morning.
Random thoughts kiss me good morning.
:)
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