Crow's Nest

I met a man
who ran from home
its time for me
to find my own.

I see the ragged
weave of sand
grainy, across
the empty hand

And want to live
my life again
with purpose,
down the golden chain.

I see the sun
in its stony grave
I feel for heat
lost in liquid haze

I look out
at the stars away
see their light,
at constant play

The loneliness
is fearfully free . . .
No need to respond
calls back to me.

I have a heart
as large as being
Yet I feel nothing
Blind eyes are seeing.

Flowers blooming
black and blue
are morning’s blossoms,
as old as new.

So, see the ripples
of sparkle light
cold upon
the waves of night.

Wave a flag
way out at sea
Maybe that, perhaps,
Will matter to me.
P.L. Rao
27th December 2008