Diaspora
Close eyes
Weaver knits wind tails
Dreammaker ignites fire
Reach, catch a tail, flipping fast,
skim invisible air
Grab this one or that—
tail of another fantastic—
Soar through days,
ripple like waves
surge through moments
twirl through realizations
A trail blazes, sears,
splits sky—
fills the deep
with words dared spoken—
The past nips, propels,
chases the next breath—
turn ear to whispering sands
and glass carpet schemes
If the Dreammaker
is gathered light
then we are diaspora–
little bits of light
speeding through
the universe in cosmic adventures
like burning comet tails
Except – the diaspora
doesn’t burn in the atmosphere—
stardust materializes
and walks on solid ground
And I find my adventures
here and later and continuous
©Prasanta 2016
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