The harrowing winds of the morning
sweep through villages both
old and new.............

Skewed Perspectives

Perched on this clifftop
high above the verdant tropics
my eyes sweep across
the thousands of treetops
home to thousands of lifeforms
with thousands of agendas.

The harrowing winds of the morning
sweep through villages both
old and new
where young lovers welcome
the cool breeze
which lifts them off their feet
and into the euphoric waterfalls
of tomorrow.

Winding past ancient trees
full of mechanical inhabitants
the winds sweep quickly
toward rural bricklayers
who are fruitlessly trying
to light a fire for the night's
supper.
In the face of such rapid torrents,
the metaphor of this reality
haunts their dreams nightly.

In the neighboring jungle
a beast is slumbering
in the hollows of the land
curled around a crystal dome
where beautiful and innocent butterflies
are trapped; protected,
depending on your point of view.

I watch intently as the breeze
slows nearly to a stop,
creeping toward the tips
of the beast's hair.
Despite myself I stiffen,
muscles tensed
anticipating the coming awakening.

Suddenly
I'm caught off guard
by a double vision
of the beast disappearing
and a gentle fluttering breeze
sweeping across my neck
and I awaken,
curled around a crystal dome
of tiny butterflies.

Nice poem
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