MY SON viii

My Son,

This journey of life…is a rope

Tied round a loin as girgle –

Guiding it’s pride. 

It’s no longer a rope but a stride

To be a circled rainbow… 

It may be viewed by your insight

To see sun in his core

To see moon in her heart

As spectrum spies through your eyes

To read each poem before you leave… 

Though you listen

To the voice of the earth, 

Listen to your soul –

Will your soul melt

By what this earth has sown? 

Listen to silence, to whispers;

To’d hiss of dragon in pretence –

Crawling through your mind, 

Making this new world of temptation

Knowing to whom you are

As satan dwell in the midst of hell

Dwell with the breed of thought

Where idea was captured and caught…

Hnmm…will you hug your lonesomeness

Of being, in the meadow,  My Son?

Much have I said, my Son, 

What will you…(Continue…)


©Natur’s Pictur N’quill 2016.


2 thoughts on “MY SON viii”

Comments are closed.