Thursday, August 19, 2010
The old kite got ensnared on the branch
Of a tree, swaying in the evening wind.
My heart is endeavouring to loosen
The thread, to fly a new kite; striving
To locate the flimsy string that vanished
In the ether, beyond my sight.
Piercing the vast empty space of the
Horizon, my eyes wander among the clouds
And the far celestial heights.
I feel only at my finger tips, the tension
Of the unseen thread that links with the kite.
In the fading twilight, I should
Rewind the thread back to its reel,
With care, not to break it.
Then I discern the fluttering black flaps
Of my kite high above, while the evening
Crawled away from the sky over the black wings
Of the kite; sans thread, sans sky, sans clouds.
Only the humming wind remained;
And me holding the broken end of the string…