A child of the Sun
How long this time lay I sleeping
in darkness
my eons of oblivion
and dreams of nothing
to stir at the turning key
the door opening
eggshell cracking.
How brief this time am I animated
in light
a crying breath
a withered used death
a flash extinguished
to sleep in waiting again
in blankets of blackness
a century or millennia
till the next random chance
tap me awake again
watch a sunrise
and live
watch the sun set
and die
to weave my next cocoon
and fall into sable hibernation
of unwondering and dread
that the next time I awaken
the fire will be dead.
- Amazon.com: Midnight in Jackie's Garden eBook: Wayne Barrett: Books
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Comments
AUTHORShanmarie, thank you for visiting this old one.
Very interesting, Wayne. Life is indeed short.
- AUTHOR
Thank you Rasma.
The fires will keep on burning with your wonderful and inspirational poetry.
- AUTHOR
Lurana, you are too kind. Thank you very much.
- AUTHOR
Thank you again Rebeka.
Profound and subtle---gifted writing! I like the separation of the phrases. The part with "turning key, door opening, egg cracking" was my favorite...very captivating. ~Lurana
- AUTHOR
Thank you again sweety.
Beautiful. You express so well the intangibles that we can only know from within, all existence is a circle of life. The cocoon knows when to open and close.
- AUTHOR
Thank you, Deb. I'm thrilled that you have seemed to grasp some of that insight that I have described. I appreciate your visits.
"watch the sunrise and live, watch the sunset and Die." what a beautiful line!
Truly, a child of the sun. The darkness is merely a cocoon of rest. This was an exceptional piece filled with insight that many may not see or ever experience as such.
- AUTHOR
Tom, thank you very much my friend.
- AUTHOR
Thank you, Valleypoet.
All the more reason to seize the day! Carpe diem :D
Very good Wayne, I will vote up.
I do see it now, thank you.
- AUTHOR
Thanks for the visit Sha.
I love the imagery you have evoked Wayne...your poem is very insightful, pondering upon the fleeting nature of life, likening it to a flame flickering on and off as we live, sleep and ultimately die...great work:-))
Wow. This one has to be read slowly and several times. Very deep, Wayne!
- AUTHOR
I will look yours up.
I'm sorry, I should have specified. Midnight in Jackie's Garden is an eBook on Amazon. I have the link to it at the bottom of this poem.
I wrote a poem with this subject, Before I Wake. Did you mean you published Midnight in Jackie's Garden here or in books stores? I can't find it.
I will check that out today.
- AUTHOR
Thank you all my dear friends,
Jackie: (I just published Midnight in Jackie's garden)
Audrey:
Nellieanna:
Faith:
Cat:
torrilynn:
Katheryn:
Frank:
Considering some of the comments, I thought I would clarify where my mind was going with this piece. I went to sleep last night thinking that I may have left an enigma, so when I saw Audrey's comment I knew that I had left too much of a puzzle. This piece is about the shortness of life, not just human life, but all life, in retrospect to existence as a whole. I had considered using 'reincarnation' as my title, but that is not exactly what this work is about. Regardless of your beliefs, there is a life force, an energy, that passes from living creature to living creature throughout time, and there is also that inert question, or fear within all of us we sleep. (temporarily or permanently), will I wake up this time?
again very well written my friend voted up :)
This is a beautiful poem, however it may be interpreted. Thanks for sharing it with us.
~ Kathryn
Inspirational and intricate. Shared with others !
This is really deep Wayne, I've read it 3 times now... I get something different from it every time. Is it sad that some of my most beautiful moments happen while I'm sleeping?
Beautiful!
Cat
Really liked this one. Very interesting and lovely.
Voted up ++ and sharing
Blessings, Faith Reaper
Oh, no - the fire will not ever be dead!
It's beautiful, Wayne, and so very clear in the sunshine.
Enigmatic write Wayne--but so well crafted!
Very good, I liked it. Up and sharing.
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