stilling wrath on the horizon

the wrath of gods
is strewn across the sky
in ropes of cloud
painted red
and orange
and purple

as though the air is on fire

and I watch
as the blue
becomes a kaleidoscope
becomes a rainbow
in full broil

the cosmic soup is stirred today
from somewhere above
and well beyond

I can’t stop watching it
the play
as colours hue from golden white
to shades
you don’t see
other places

only there
in the western sky
beyond the day
just at the place
where night falls

and the wrath of gods
is cooled
by descending dark
and event lighting
timed to fade
with the kiss goodbye
of today’s angry sun

the horizon
has all the color-life
that was ever made
for this world


© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #12: the art question

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2 thoughts on “stilling wrath on the horizon

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