A THOUSAND PREGNANT SUNS

22

i

Here is a map of our country
Our souls glazed in books, language, ideas
This is the birthplace of our truth
In the aristocracy of craft

ii

In the feudalism of art
We are like painters on caves
Loving our canvas, more than our body
Here is the map of our journey

iii

I drive inland over poetic roads
Every person is a character of my muse
For life and death, is finally the same
We dare not taste its water

iv

The battlefield is a myth, there is no
Right or wrong, only neutrality, nature
Creation, we became poets
To find our way back to the light

v

We wrote of the promise
Of a thousand pregnant suns.

6 thoughts on “A THOUSAND PREGNANT SUNS

  1. I do love this one. The last stanza and its metaphor are astounding
    “We wrote of the promise
    Of a thousand pregnant suns.”
    Thanks for sharing your wonderful poetry!
    Kind regards from France
    FGM

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s