The Eye Of The Mountain
few have seen, most never will
brilliant faceted crystals, sculpted by moments in time, fashions avoid that broadcasts a stream generating a cascade of hues its breath billows as a miasma of mist
the elf pushes the sol gradually athwart
the heaven its beams disseminate
as dewdrops from the atmosphere
piercing through the mist
reproducing from the treasures in the haze
skipping off other quartz underneath the pool
throughout the streaming spray
hurling prisms over everything that exists
a euphoric sensation of enlightenment
lifts you as if you could fly
fairy-like creatures appearing
swinging on rainbows as they hover in the air
immersed in The River of Memories
is a mix, antiquity, futurity may not be yours
don't be succumbed to this enchantment
don't negligence the time
when apollo has been thrust
to the edge of the atmosphere
and all this goes to slumber
the bark of the trees transforms into sponges
that consume you're being
what's left behind dissipates, not omitting a trace
the forest of spirits now incases you
About the Creator
A. Keith Clement
I write poetry and short stories it is a necessity for me. It keeps me happy.
Without knowing it until I was forty-seven, my life has been a work in progress that began in my youthful years as a child and has continued to this day.
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