Misty white flotilla floats the sky
Throbbing sun make dandelions heads lilt, while  their seeds await a gusty cry
Or a passing child, in whose blowing wish,
both futures lie.
Startled starlings sweep and rush and prance
with blackened silhouetted bodies, they dive and kick their dance.

Sweeping, glaring, transcendence hums,
From nowhere.
From somewhere.
Resistance soon,
Skinny slowing streams, remain from once upon a flood
Sucked and bled and drank and fed
The earths body
it too, needs it’s own life blood.
While shiny slimy beady eye frogs, make footprints
in the drying skinning mud.

Stone still hares, still can’t hide their musty mess
From a daylight reluctant, fox’s, stuck up nose, which points progress.
Golden nectar drips the glut of hungry bees
from pink and purple thistles with thorny hairy knees
which holds no barrier, or lock against the floating tender touch
of magnificent skippers and swallowtails as they probe and lick and suck.

A picture painting never will complete.
From soaring eagle to dormouse tiny feet.
No mans invention or false progress will ever create or see.
The glorious summer day available
For us and them,
to you,
from justme.

Credits: © cmc; All rights reserved

Silent tear

A meditation….

The quote based on the fragment poem "Silent Tear" by justme
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A tiny voice

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A tiny voice whispers…

Within the rush of life, in the corner of your mind, your eye – you sense the moon, the stars. Those mysterious flickers you ignore because your busy. Yet within the thought is your habit, all you have claimed your own, pushing you north, yet, west of you silently, quietly, unassuming, the space it calls you, through pinholes it, like a god bursting flare it pierces that part of you which you disregard, yet somewhere within that ignoring, within the hustle and bustle and knowing and growing a tiny voice whispers, ‘look at me, you who search the perfect, for I am indeed the perfect yet you will not look, you refuse to turn your eye’.

For you are blind. The blind leading the blind.

Can you see and yet be blind ?
Writings © Justme; Image © Catrinphoto; Reflection © Michaela; 
All rights reserved