Illusion
"I reclined on the armchair of dreams
and the leaves beneath my feet
rustled and turned yellow to green.
In the night, the ambulance breaks
the silence that we crave for
and in the afternoon sun,
all things seem Holy.
I opened your letter reluctantly
to find new uses for old words,
and they flowed away like a black river
dying from pollution of thoughts
already cremated in ivory towers
near the hill of erupting dreams.
And as I walked into
the shadow of a tree,
I saw a refreshing image
of you upon the green.
I touched the cool
fresh blades and found
my hand was alone in the grass.
The sky was bright and clear.
I saw miles
beyond my being –
where the sparrow sings
and the raven sits"
and the leaves beneath my feet
rustled and turned yellow to green.
In the night, the ambulance breaks
the silence that we crave for
and in the afternoon sun,
all things seem Holy.
I opened your letter reluctantly
to find new uses for old words,
and they flowed away like a black river
dying from pollution of thoughts
already cremated in ivory towers
near the hill of erupting dreams.
And as I walked into
the shadow of a tree,
I saw a refreshing image
of you upon the green.
I touched the cool
fresh blades and found
my hand was alone in the grass.
The sky was bright and clear.
I saw miles
beyond my being –
where the sparrow sings
and the raven sits"
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