safe isle
Radiant colossal giants covering the horizons,
pouring adventure in day, hiding calm through dark.
Holding an employed mind's escape reasons,
camping nights, reverie sunsets, and dawn's lark.
marks of a mourning, yet to pass, gliding above waves
as morning dew settles on leaves, little reflections--
of little lives, refracted upon the water's image, and paves
a route to the roots, to a heart riddled with afflictions,
and still desperate to begin anew, to change a fate, neglected
by the stars, and the horrors to which one was subjected,
still a kestrel's sight grants no clarity to ancestral plight,
as veils of fiction misguide hopeful hearts in the night.
a delusional illusion penned by poets on tear-stained pages,
convinced of a divine answering or perhaps a broken cage,
To which they dedicate their art, tailoring a tale to their needs,
Still they heed no warning, driven to their doom by good deeds.
Little Reflections of little lives lived in hope,
Upon the water, their ways to cope.
Waiver not in judgement, yet look upon them with favour,
And their little smiles? Better to be savoured.
outer cypress