Witness
Light, sunlight spits, splits in disorderliness, to the upsurge of the roof above Within this catherdral enclave scales glint... rainbows, colour glides in sapphire waters;
This is the kingdom, and I float, suspended in heaven, cut off from the world of golden, setting skies:
Such brilliance enfolds, captivates my soul, reef fish dance under my feet. Circles of leadlight gracefully encircle me, filling my heart...
spell bound, I see within me my fathers father, and his father,
and I,
I am the ocean, calm before the storm, the reef, Great Barrier Reef, dying, building, on bones of ages past,
cathedrals.
Aroma of grass
Until I reclined in summers warmth, aroused by the fragrance of fresh cut grass, blades peircing into my flesh; I didn't believe I was going back home from the hospice-- back stricken from the conflict of the surgeons scapel: I started to rise but the weight of the sun flaunted my weakness, Drunkenly I climbed the hilltop like a child, wrapped in the sweet fragrance of grass.
Materialisation
Today I saw Picasso in my kitchen; he glanced at me mournfully, a sinister, jaded green, stark within the frame on my wall, thin, gaunt, haunted, hauting eyes frail flesh, skin on bone.
So much grief Cleaved to canvas.
Did he ever understand, understand the impression he would leave- that millions would pass
Through colours into his world, of worlds within.
His gaze left me feeling, somehow, a work of art, paint, ready to dry out, drying, deteriorating with age.
I deduce one day, my son will say of the picture he holds of me, my flesh, skin on bone, was pastel, not jaded green.
and in my passing, I was no Picasso.
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