Can you be the last bastion in the sky?
As the ground builds in tremors?
Where my fortitude went to die.
Or was it the birth of something to bring it all above?

I, in the wake of the world
I, who had closed my eyes
For the sun was too bright
Against the clouds in the sky

The sky, the sky
You will see it in its luminance of blue
Hue so wonderous, yes, it had to be a reflection
This atmospheric visage, a mirror held above the calamatic wake of the soil

Of the sand
Of the dust
Of the land
And its rust

To the children of the rust
Never shut your eyes
For as the sea peels against your lustrous epidermis
The sun will dry it off.

[ CONTINUE ]