Roses of auckland

Jey Min (SOTA)

Singapore

I write when I gain inspiration. I aspire to be a published poet someday.

Tongariro

December 30, 2018

FREE WRITING

3
The last breaths of spring seep away, leaving
the wild wind in its wake.

In the darkness alone,
I see
the galaxy lying dormant
and the strings of stars winking
back at me.

The blinding rays of day bring forth
a distance that stretches far;
the melody of the sloping hills
rising slowly
with the wind
as its orchestra,

the violin as the stray, slanting sunlight,
the piano; the grass beneath
with my ascend as its player.

and so my fingers waltz over the keys:
Each thumping footstep creates its melody,
melds each movement;
the snow and its imprint,
the summit and its descent.

In a distance:
light glints off
the deep emerald lakes,
each flash the beat
of the drumming of the heart
caged in the chest.

Music is a wild thing
that longs to be unleashed,
to run free through
the landscape of reality.
But it is caged within imagination.
Yet the rushing of the
unfamiliar air
breathes life into its staticity,
brings it galloping through the mountain plains:
wild horses borne
of the wild (fading) wind.
 

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