Gazing to his sky

Gazing to his sky

A child gazes to his sky,
his fantasy dragon rides the thunderbolt
of eros; wings broken by a wind’s fury
in twisted ecstasy.

A cloud bursts, a roar of tears
at the height of joy.

He gazes, understanding nothing
but the sad echo
lost in utter dark; he climbs his hill
bewitched with her smile
caught in a blink of lightning.

Waves pound his heart,
like great walls colliding with heaven
or even the universe;
still deafening after the angel’s cry
of guile. . . .
did i waken
from this lovely fantasy?

A child gazing to an empty sky
void of its sweet tsunami?
a silhouette cut out of paper visions?
at last awakened
under a cold, angry sky?
Did i fall away from your hand,
so soft and delicate?

He waits in wet silence
for the echo, pounding fiercely against
a heart still; like a surf
kept hidden so the turtles may lay fragile eggs
in the sand. . . .

He gazes to his sky.