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DAUGHTER SUN

The daughter sun must return to her mother when she gets bitten by the snake in the sky

By Luke DoylePublished 5 years ago 2 min read

THE DAUGHTER SUN

The daughter sun must return to her mother when she gets bitten by the snake in the sky

The sun stepped over our gates

The snake shed its skin

The skin broke up and glinted down the mountain stream

The clouds were flowering

The paired butterflies carry carts of stone souls

The wind bounded about, bundling itself

Into a bluish cloud and wandered away

Testing the depths of my reflection

Once upon a time syne

In the jury of a scene

Under the blue ribbon of the day

The fictive vein is now at play

Language dyes the mind

There is little I won’t betray.

There is a single nature, to explain.

A character to betray

The secret architecture of making a moral play.

Some certain significance lurks in all things,

Else all things are little worth

Not everyone gets lucky in the silence

Mutable nature has some reins

Others changed

Some read the wrong side of silence

That’s the way their minds are made

I suppose

We beg at their dreams though still

And come out with a predictive nature

I’ll believe I’ll climb up the mountain

Paint the clouds white and send them into midday

The horizon line is a product of shadows

I work towards it.

Who lit the curtains

The curtaining cheeks

Cheeks on fire

The dye of the flaming colours of the day

The rainbow sews colour to the ground

I walk towards her scraping the sky

Pushing dead bugs, blood and other pigments

into the ceiling the sky

Thickened with oil

They fall

Under the blue sky

Under the blue ribbon of the day,

which I tied around the crown of care in your hair

A cloud on my back

Planting things

Soaked in the rain of light

drenched right through

Once in her arms I centred all my joy

The worried noises of others rewound in my breath

From the mortal plain of dreams and heaven

A little confused

My iris closed around her pupil

You walk the rims of my eyes

Fight your way through the thorny eyelashes

I caught your shadow

Just grief for the seasons in which part the world

nature poetry

About the Creator

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