Feeling poetic, I know not where it comes

A sudden rising sun, plunging moon
Dionysian swoons, a pale drop
Screaming loons

Glimmer river
Of crystal blue sand dune
Clear enlightening, empty foam noons

Pass soon
Rotating spheres speak floating glyph language, tunes
Seeking who is who, slipping dream rooms

Tell me, come closer
I cannot said the image
Mirrors never really, move

Though… I do

Published by Tom Lopes