Transcendence

My sun has risen
Over my rainbow-sprinkled
Ocean. My dreams where shaken
by my immortal lust for change.
My present is behind me.
My future trails over me.
My past has been edited many times
By authors who never existed.

And my wind is blowing
over my curly hair. Whispering songs
that were kept unscored,
reciting poems that are yet to be made.

My moon is soon to set
Over my misted west.
And desperately I have prayed
for another sunshine,
another promise of a rainbow-sprinkled
horizon, and another windy afternoon

to fly kites that would embrace the sky
and spell a thousand words
that were opted to be kept unsaid,
that would fly the thoughts to a space
way beyond my limits.August 18, 2004