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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1403823
A thousand dancing suns, raise your hand and squint
I see from my window a thousand dancing suns, each caught in their slight
curve, riding as one on the backs of unsuspecting waves.

All happy in themselves, nothing else skims through minds always eager with
the task at hand.

Flash dancing as they do, jittering in rhythm with one another.

They serve to expand eager conscious thought, to connect the un-connectable.

I leave my mind, dragging my body behind, a grudging passenger it likes to
make.

Minds eye wandering, always open, sometimes nothing is seen.

I stand back from myself, and allow myself to take a breath, taste the sun,
and smell the warmth.

I watch clouds run courses set in motion, perhaps by a moths momentary
enthrallment with searing flame.

Slight twitch of time, shows anxious clouds journeys to be made in every
last place, images dancing lightly through its many shadows.

Multitudes seem to hover and turn, sometimes tilting crazily through,
crashing to the ordered march of the wanting waves below.

Sunlight scattering from lazy shattered pieces of pondering waves taste of
breaths released on summits last swell.

Dragging with them sweat turned ice released on waves slow sag, toiling
bodies they seem to be, time the eager chill tries the weary.

Shadows move across my upturned face, body long lost, the toil resonates
with each pong of wave caught mid-stride colliding with the hollow side of
what I make my reality.

The sound is empty time and time again.

Perhaps a different face, a different taste, but the fact remains.

Tides of eager thoughts splash dance along my tongue twisted in
their own history, conscious reasoning trying to guide them along their
clawing journey.
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