Bottalack Cliffs
Here again, at twilight and my mind is blank to the outside
words
A question I have been asking myself recently - is my work riddled with death?
Or pointing toward it ( even in youth )
-
The air smells of the west
There is a space with fragrance
scent
a natural odour
Scilly
in the dull effervescence
a twilight gloam
pink muted to orange - one way
and to grey violet - the other way
vertiginous
its vague smear southerly to the left
there is one part of the sky that is a pale gold window
as the day dims
sinks
it saddles the night
the colour is almost rich
getting richer
as this darkness forms
from the east around me, a shroud
last window
riching splendour
greys turn through blue towards violet
the world's jet streams in china blue
the orange glow
still shifts southerly
westward day
earth's rim
a pointing towards
(not extraction )
sometimes the ' spirit ' - in the solaplexus is absent
empty
sleeping
and then a bright star
many jewelled
opine
above -
the orange hue from the west
through fugged clouds
looking for an ecstasy
1 comment:
That is colour to dive into. Surround.
We always are moving towards death. True? That is what makes life so painfully beautiful. Some see it clearer than others. Feel it. Sharpens perception, vision. We might not feel it all the time. Life gets in the way of living.
"..looking for an ecstasy", very nice.
Post a Comment