In the huge, timeless embryo, very far away, I live.

Here, New York is a silent ocean,
Blazing in cyan joy,
London, a meadow,
Filled with tiny streams
That trickle round and round,
Paris is a huge hollow ball
With luminescent neon lights
That always lights up the cold, dark universe.

Anger, a crimson flame
That burns, endlessly, above ground,
Sadness, an ember,
Glowing, dimly, in auburn
And happiness, a star,
Glimmering in navy blue like a lagoon.

Diamonds are ageless willow trees,
Sapphires, they are blooming bluebells,
Rubies, red, ripened apples,
And emeralds are green strands of whispering grass.

The seasonal wind whispers
Like the sound of the violins in Beethoven’s first concerto,
The only language, spoken,
Is the voice of T.S Elliot, reading his poems
While the picturesque sceneries,
Resemble those paintings of Michael Angelo.

Here, I dwell… a poet,
I long to return to the real Earth
Where all divine creations
Sound, taste, look, smell and feel like they should be.

------- Author's Notes -------

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