Relativity In Guise Of The Moving Moon
A small chunky moon drifts or perhaps
It is the clouds that are moving
The stars are surely still
The black river scintillates
Its waters are restless
What mystery in shiftings, the flow
and ebb of every particle of air
Impart a meaning. We
Are one with this movement
Are one with what is and will be
Contributors: | Francine, N. |
Poem finished: | 5th August 2003. |