This is the second poem in the challenge (apologies that I couldn't write yesterday) and to me, it's some sort of a down-the-memory-lane/ reverse coming-of-age nullified drama or a classic prog song or something. I don't know. It's a cocktail - I want you to drink it and talk back then. Maybe we would get over some greyness by then. See you there.
Painting: A Corner of the Garden at Montgeron by Claude Monet, 1877
The storm that awakened the spirit of sighs
And the pantheon of angels across the shadow across your eyelashes
Parallel, distinguished ;
Wrapped in grey smoke
The wrathful eyes of emptiness
Oceans that built the planets
A myriad of blues apart
Apart - detailed in shades of perforated nothingness
The crimson in your eyes
The void that you carried for so long
And who pretends, now?
A fleet of albatrosses parachuting their flight towards your feet
Rummaging a hidden grief for ages and ages to come
And the myriad of blues hidden in your fingernails...
Rise. Arise. Out of nothing, a thousand nowhere apart.
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What are your perspectives?