Clouds and Crowns No.7

No longer sure that clouds say what is true,
I look upon the crown of golden days
And see instead a stretching, open haze,
A space which does not shift for signs of You.
Eternity confuses me; I view
The openness of time with halting gaze,
A rupturing of boundaries, blinding daze,
The fear of endless sky with nothing new.
Yet I am held and do not feel the arms;
I wander, yet remain somehow still here,
Cradled in infinity’s vast plans,
Dying, growing old, yet cupped in palms
Which gather clouds and shape the endless spheres,
Sometimes the doorways to imagined lands.

2 thoughts on “Clouds and Crowns No.7

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