By: Harman Cheema
Furious tears of Poseidon, both lavish and free.
When I fell in love with the moon,
The sky had been dipped in luminescent streaks of water and dust.
Sometimes I wonder,
If the sky reflects the sea,
Or if the sea reflects the sky.
The clouds become flowers,
Becoming everything out of nothing,
Furious tears of Poseidon, both lavash and free.
When I first found the moon,
She was whispering fiddles with the wind,
And was sprawled out across the eve’s crust.
Her eyes were made of supernovas,
I could hear the roar of birth looming across the forbidden peaks of space.
Her skin was made of infinite lilacs and nurturing daisies,
I could feel them carved into beds of stardust across her face.
She was a piece of the distance, and a child of the unknown.
Carried to earth’s whim with glittering tears kissing the blank ocean sky,
Garnishing it with the blessing we named stars.
She said her name was Selene,
And she was covered with faith, lavished and fed entirely with the emptying feeling we call love.
I spoke her in speechlessness, completely brandished with secrecy and woe.
“ When will I learn to cope with these waves made of ashes of my fragmented conscience, forcing me to swallow my repent? I was born in the river of Romeo, and caste away like a star who can no longer stand. Selene, will I ever fit into myself again?”
She looked at me with air, gliding miracles across her fingers, and with stillness within the cliff’s tip.
“Those born in the dewdrops of streams, and pushed endlessly across the tinted edges of the horizon, sinned. Stella, you need to learn to swim.”
And then the sun pushed her away from the wind.