Poem -
March Forth
Nearing the infinite distances...
near the foot of day,
upturned dust, at march of day,
kings processions in every way,
every direction of every day,
of every time of every way,
like a repetition of their say
in whatever direction they may,
he would say...
Maybe not now he said...
maybe now is not my time...
but he also knew one thing...
one cannot be something they cannot be...
one cannot try to change the Sky and make it a poem he thought,
but he kept trying...
until his eyes filled with stars and his heart became every river...
in the endless processions of time.
(March 4th is my birthday)
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Comments
Thought provoking...enjoyed,got me thinking whether I agree or not...still thinking ??x
Thank you Marion, I am glad that you enjoyed it Art is not as meaningful without an audience whether they happen to be in agreement or not indeed. It's good when art makes people contemplate or feel a certain way or understand something new, I think these are the three main functions of art as they organize new ways of understanding the world and related to its elements and its essential processes in how they change people and their approaches.
Peter
Very interesting that your birthday is March Fourth...... time marches on..... and we can only be what we will be in the evolution of our experiences and our own spirituality until that day when ~ " His eyes fill with stars and his heart became every river"....... for it is our destiny to find our creator...... eventually!!.... smiles....... this is an excellent piece brother poet!!.....PINNED for perfection!!.....LOVE and ROCKETS!!.....T xo ?☀✴♥?♥♥??