The Great Wide Open
Reconnoitering the abysmal depth in the tranquil resurging
My dithering thoughts are dewdrops of glacial waters
That I cannot fathom to feed the famished ocean
But as they plummet down the mirror of the firmament,
A collective of placid hands that failed in the brunt
Of reaching and collecting the constellations, coiled
Sapped out of life, palming the high and angry surf
That revealed itself like twenty thousand buckling pearls
Steered brazenly like galloping mad stallions
And the inclement wind fecundates the welling call
The immense pacific hauled a sliver with every wave
And every ebb, and every saline rippling I am beckoned
With anarchical power glinting in its azure tiara
But the least I drown in this turbulent musing
The greater uproar welled through my throat
Where the heart was wedged from disengaging
And taut from screaming inadequate directions
Etched in its forlorn maps and spoken by its compasses
Through and through, the immense pacific calls
A bold berceuse dropped like a forcedly ripened apple
From the ocean's infinite soughing of autumn leaves
From the dinghy its chutzpa battled the ubiquitous
And perfidious serenading of the elusive sirens
Whilst my heart gyrated through the howling winds,
Beating the windbreakers and taunting bestiary cages
As it sought for homage in the great wide open -
Neither closed, scarcely open; because home is where
The heart resides and gather its sporadic rhythm
And the reefs and hidden coves echoed the slow dance
Of the trepidation ribbing the feigned valiance
The earth never seemed to end in the treacherous horizon
Where the sun would buoy its sleepy rays instantaneously
And would souse its inebriated flames the next instant
Unmoored from the branch where the living used to perch
In search of the place where the dearth rejuvenates a birth
But not an island comes to sight with unmoving hopes
Raise the roof beams of this inverted dome and elope
With the hurricanes and waterspouts brining the metallic water
Frothing effervescent little stars emancipated from constellations
And making its own piece of heaven in a flimsy plane
Without a lasso of direction and outnumbered caliginosity
I circumnavigated the toothless fringe of the great wide open
And opened my eyes to close my heart, hands on deck,
Hands on the helm, I beckoned to the sweetest waves
To bring me back but then he stared with his sterile eyes
And I stared back to oblivion to find my own reflection.
In this great wide open, I am neither here nor there
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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