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Returning the kings

The lights were out
I sat by the window
peering into the dark rain
Today was the ceremony

The pelting cold drops,
they were the orchestra
beating down hard on the roofs
and stones and leaves

Steadily down on they beat,
they were natural and the best
the wind rustling,carried the tune,
stopped suddenly

Hush!Here they come,
there the thunderous roll!
It grew louder,drew closer
the breeze,colder,tenser.

It was no thunder but
the tremendous wheels
treading the heavenly path
the royal chariots were passing by.

High above pure silver struck!
The sky flashed so bright
like fireworks, the beautiful lights
announced the kings' arrival

The clap of the thunder
the cheerful lights
More chariots
and the enchanting music

Tonight the kings
will be sent back from heaven
they are on their way
the true eternal leaders

The breeze wound through
through the trees
through the window
He found me

A single puff and he
swept the wonder off my face
He stroked my hair
"There, there.."

But the chariots
i protested.I heard them!
I saw it!the illumination!
The breeze replied.
'or your imagination'.

He knew I was aware
about the kings
So he lingered
breathing a strange lullaby
till i had forgotten and fallen asleep


I find poetry very disturbing.It means one thing to one person ans something totally diffrent to another.Poetry is like an abstract painting. The artist knows exactly what he is doing when he's doing it. The rest is for the world to interpret and they never seem to get it exactly as he felt it.

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