Blue World ... Hope; Not Despair
A balloon slips through
fingers; then bright eyes
do cry
risen high
to glorious skies.
Twilight's dusk
brings brief sadness too
as aged lids close
and hearts stop beating
due to an inheritance
of free-will abused.
Leaves recycle
from limb to wind;
settle on soil to dry
rewind to dust
again and again
spanning generations
seeing forming stars
and descending moons.
I lie beneath one full one
passing this world into
a tomorrow
I knew
would end
none too soon
as my ears caught
a delightful tune.
Did you hear
the nightingale's
notes breaking
night's despondent
atmosphere
by waking those sleeping
in death's various lairs--
cemeteries
old and new
far and near
watery or desert
mountainous
to mention a few?
Her song's of rebirths,
reunited loved ones
once old
now young
oxygen
not purchased
and IV's not hung?
We now read of famous ones
or not
reborn,
Suicides reversed,
faces no longer forlorn;
Reconnected:
Mothers to daughters;
fathers to sons; then banquets and parties;
weddings to come under
endless and everlasting
glorious suns?
Imagine the headlines:
To Life Again!
Loved ones and parents
children and friends
to begin
Again on an Earth
totally
cleansed
of rivers red
and black and blues
from abusive ones
finally removed.
Then
no need to wistfully reply to:
"When the blue world was only endless sky,
and all our tiny hearts were wings."
For one and all will unitedly sing
in happiness
under earth's
Righteous New
Eternal King!
Contest: When the blue world was only endless sky, and all our tiny hearts were wings. I want imagination. Childlike wonder. Something that reminds me what a big beautiful world is ours. The prompt is the title, but interpret it however you wish: "When the blue world was only endless sky, and all our tiny hearts were wings." No restrictions, but it needs to be at least five stanzas to be considered. If an entry is boring, or unimaginative to me, I may remove it at my discretion. I love careful use of color; story and metaphor tied together; philosophical observation... Thrill me! Picture: Durdle Door Sunset, Newlands, England Hope for the Dead--How Can You Be Sure? https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/2015564#h=5:0-5:598 2 Peter 3:13; John 5:28, 28 © 6 years ago, Lucretia McCloud hope • love • society • spiritual • teen
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