Mark Scrivener

Poetry Poems Original Verse

Thursday, February 19, 2009



First there is blue
with wind rushing through:
vastness and air,
room everywhere.

Then there's the kite
lifting to height,
catching on wind;
white ball of string
quickly unravelling.

Further from you,
climbing and travelling
into the blue,
but balanced by holding tight;
into the height
rises the kite.

You feel the wind,
the balancing:
the loop and fall,
the rise, the stilling pull.

You see the field of blue
and feel the distant diamond,
the blatant red on wind,
as linked to you. . .

you feel the playfulness
of balancing the stress;
a friend of wind and air and sky,
and see the rustle of the tail,
rippling-free on high.

But best of all you feel you sail
upon the blue,
upon the wind,
upon the boundlessness and blend
awareness with the vastness over you. . .

the endless horizon and world without end.


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