Friday, July 13, 2007

Feather from my Angel

Painting in colors of dreams--
Dreams though,they say are colorless--
A canine being sees grey red,and silver grey yellow,as;
Finding solace in the depths of the pillows,
I'm a painter who paints.
Artsy.Full of disdain.
Drinking from the Lake of sorrow,
Sorrow they say is a dry emotion.
Lake Avenue,without a Lake.
Embracing the serene abysmal darkness,
I'm a digger who digs up springs.
Springy.Shone by shadow in the face.
Then a scratch on the dream-canvas,
Tears tumble from the Lake.
Dissolving all that was colored apart.
Just a scratch.
Everything else is so beautiful.
But the scratch.
In the wrong place.Water spurt in my face.
Shadow in my face...walk in my pace.

Then Angel from the haven of the Forgiven,
Come to me.
Angel's wings envelop the sky.
I cant see the dark sky.
I thought I was dreaming.I thought...
It was night.

Angel.You blind me.Let me see.
I struggle,against the dazzle of Light.
Bright Light.

And then I open my eyes.
And I see...
Feather plumes embellishing the scratch,or...
A feather disguising the scratch,or...
a Feather in its place.
Feather from my Angel's wings... save all my dreams.
A humble the Lake.
Just a feather...
To live to tell the Story of my mistake.

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