The ancient serape of sibling celestials
And too of my young lunar cherish
This lagoon is hung up high,
Holding stars of the bodily perished.
Giving birth to a new opacity,
Comprehending it is beyond my capacity.
A boon to the eternity of those thoughts
That flow around in almost no ultimity.
A cunning chameleon of day and dark,
Changing its color at every arc.
Primordial and obsolete, barely altered,
A watchtower to this revamping wildlife park.
Often lost in the virtue of exploration
I go in thy flow of expectations
A feel obtained, repelling personal agony
An energy obtained, binding old separations.
While I behold its antique beauty
Exposed to all but still has safety
The time there then dies for a moment
Starry and starry it becomes very hasty.
A 2-D portrait of some Picasso in disguise
Reflecting the truce, worthy and wise
Decrypted spectrum of the docile nature
And the flying dinosaurs seizing its size.
The crowning nimbus gets a wild debut
The seraph I just spotted is now a mild deja-vu.
Each stare in range, a beckoning to fly
Prying to immerse into the lake called sky.
YOU ARE READING
A lake called sky
Poetryfound this in my old diary where I used to write erratic things like this 12 years ago. Thought it would make a good post after so long, enjoy reading this abomination, thank you
