Feeling strange when I am looking up to the sky.
Above me is a golden silence of my own expectations.
Maybe this bird thinks I also can fly maybe that only
tree knows the truth about all the locations of the oldest
treasures buried deep in the ground and I am still looking
up to the sky where the seagull is chasing the breeze and
laughingly cries, when the morning relieves, silently reveals
all the mysteries of the night when constellations were high.
Hi David. Your poem evokes such feelings of self-searching and wonder.
Thank you for your comment, Laura.
Thank you for your comment, Laura.
Hi Laura, thank you! I am so glad to hear this. Yeah it evokes that feelings.