Sun lingering on my lonely skin, with a reverence I have never known from another,

Grass tickling my toes, waves lapping wetly on my thighs,

The mountain watches with no comment, smiling gently amidst the clouds,

The breeze and the sand will muffle my sighs,


Smoke curling upward, and I envy it’s easy flight from the earth,

Bound in the mortal coil, I watch with covetous eyes,

“How many seas must the white dove sail, before she sleeps in the sand?”

My wings are exhausted from their attempt to rise,


A silence here lingers, between the river’s current and the robin,

Reflects on my page that cries,

It does this because my eyes will not, on a day so very beautiful,

Crowned by summer skies,


I sway with the ripple, the trickle, the flow… A river of memories,

All the truth that is disguised,

Letting it all go, carried downward to the ocean, to your feet,

I wash away the lies…


5 thoughts on “Cleansing

  1. i don’t know arif, are you sleeping in a sleeping of lies? it is very easy to find truth in shades of grey, and find shapes you wish to see when you look at the clouds…


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