Tuesday, 11 December 2018

possess, not

there is this urge
a longing
to possess
whatever i see
i feel
to possess the horizon
the taste of crimson 
in the evening sky
and the monotony of the waves
crashing over the rocks
to possess them
the difference between
the shades of green 
on a tree
the lapse in the movements
of a bird in flight
and the sound of dry leaves
crushing beneath my feet
possess the crescent
slowly dissolving
into the darkness
and the silence
pushing me into sleep
possess the power
of being able to stare
into the warmth
of the setting sun
and watch it reduce to nothing
possess the experience
of time passing by
with the changing light
and that fraction of second
when the mind melts
into dreams
possess each word
and what becomes of it
as it rushes
onto the supple surface of paper
from the growing limbs
of my thoughts


i don't want to belong,
in that possession,
to anything
belong not
to my own thoughts
heaving my body down,
to the wind 
pulling my hair 
and trying to take me along
belong not 
to the fresh stain on my sleeve
or the man staring at me
with his comfortable piercing 

how is that possible

belong nowhere
and still possess it all?

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