One of them, caught
Between my fingers, stared
For what it is.

They’re all out at night
Passing through my inner sky
All different in speed, shape and brightness
But all the same before my eyes,

Vedanas, I see you, I know you.
Rest assured,
Now, you may slowly vanish.

I do not wear your flags as turbans anymore
Nor do I ride your wild horses
Laughing at Fields of Reason,
To reach the threshold of the morning,

see the quizzical trace
Your sweaty neck has left on my body.
My heavy heart and stiff knuckles
From contracting on your makeshift saddlery

Have always questioned me.

Now, I know where you run from,
And where you’re heading.

Franck Joseph
©FJ Jan 2021- All rights reserved.
Articles are available in book and e-book formats here :RECUEILS/ Books
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