Monday, November 7, 2016

Rob Schackne #145, Mousai #9 - Ouraniê


She lies on a big flat rock next to a waterfall
A noisy moonless night, warm summertime
Gathered in a rolling nocturne, she swears
Birds are awake and speaking to her
About the lights in the sky, asking questions
She tries to answer not leaving anything out

Ouraniê looking at stars, almost speechless
After the accident left her with the headache
And a diminished appetite for the news
She still craves what we hear in planets
Singing above the crash of matter, because
Her art needs your game away, not home

How do they fly, the stars? And the Moon
Where did she go tonight? What is that Red One?
Why can’t we fly down to it all? What stops us?
They fly because they still love, she tells them
We have created such limits that test our hope
Selênê is also stopped, she sleeps in a cave nearby

Where the moon runs wild through the clouds
Moving in a swirling, shuddering in silver winds
Tiny points of light pulsing hard to a beat
Late night waves taking the message back
I am missing you, come closer to me now
All is music, all is poetry and missing sound.


  1. Replies
    1. Thank you, dear Efi. But given the world today, they are comparatively mad.


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