Soft Machine

A Sol Star:

Here it is softer,

the distant road blue enough -

whisked into cloud.

I mistake the soaring sound

of engine

for an angel's voice, something song-like,

against the silence 

beyond the atmosphere,

of years past.

Its Spring is busy prying bulbs,

creating open palms everywhere -

still bird to wings,

umbrella to shadow,

basin to grass

yielding themselves

like the cranked mechanisms of a machine

heard in the measured doppler shifts

of its vibrations,

humming, humming

into the mating calls of a bird,

the first split of an infant's cry

against a mother's voice.

A timelapse

of voices rising and falling

petaled

upon each other:

Spin, and the waves of you

cannot contain themselves -

you say to the distant ones

'you were the star'

they say 'no, you are.'

'We're chasing you.'

I trip it into a cascade of candles

in the dark.

Cup it between the palms of my hand

as if merging with it again,

the ground glowing,

my steps ready to take it in

before the mind is aware.

Author's Note

Will come back to play with this. All thoughts welcome.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Been taken into an unknown yet wanted place: mystical, spiritual, displayed in such a way I want to know more.. walk its invitation.

'The softness of dawn breathes with it,
gives me a sky still hushed,
the ground glowing,
the distance everywhere
glowing.'

Safe