Escape

The routine, the monotony of life does not inspire me to create art. It is those moments when we run away from this humdrum into places within ourselves which break the barriers, the impositions, we find Art.

Perhaps, this is my last poem of this year.

Fly away

The sun and moon
Prance across accustomed skies
And like ballet dancers on a rainbow,
Rise and fall. In turn.
I sigh;
Too awake to be seeing enough.

I drink up joys and sorrows
From faceless goblets;
And I dream of days
When I would fly away
Into the arms of an unbroken mist,
Or the boughs of a silent tree
Or into old smells behind broken doors -
Of days, when I no longer felt afraid
To close a tired eye.

When wide roads stretch before me,
I train my eye to widen too.
Beckoning life to tighten its noose
Around a weakening neck.
It is life, then, who lets me go,
And tells me to fly away once again.