Rainy Road Found Poem – 14

The sky is not a drape, we both know that;
It is woven and delineated by billions of eyes, peering afar
into the fabrics of an early summer day. Rain
shattering, reflecting the tandem steps
of a lone wanderer.

Is there a new vision?
- a new imagery of poetry?
- a new rhythm of the ticking of …
no, the knocking of the Great Nothingness.
The curtain call for the final show.

Is there a new sound?
- finally not another soliloquy to self,
- melodies embodied in still a whisper …
no, a hymn to the clouds and sky above.
A yearning to face eternity.

Is that love?
A vision. A sound. Confused over the shy glimpses and held back asking.
The sky is not a drape. 

To you, my friend.
Map it well.