Posted by: Ron DuBour | January 1, 2015





This New Year I take a vow not at all to dream,
not to drink deep in waters of love’s old stream ;

not to drink honey of memory ingested by secret bees of pain
that regurgitate the old nectar on to forms new again and again ;

not to think so much of moments of intimacy with moon or rain
that have ravaged the honeycomb of my peace again and again;

I would like to promise not to awake at the dead of the midnight
to catch those dreams of butterflies that add colour to day light;

I won’t go too near the rainbow in your eye that sucks in the sun
dousing the fire in dark droplets of rain falling from clouds on run,
for my wings are lost like the recent flight lost into an unknown sea
hardly leaving any trails in the heart of the distant smoky horizon;

I would rather prefer to sink into time’s secret oblivion
where dying is pure fun in ecstasy of a union
with no images of any now or then mourning our separation ;

But as you know promises are made to be broken,
here and in heaven ,
and I don’t know where I am to go in my flow,
as I go where I’m led by the whim of my moody pen.

Comp. n copy right: saroj k. padhi ; 01/01/15

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