Prospect

Panning these cloudy skies for lightening.
They’re Impossible, bright & frightening.

Rain & sand flow from rocker-box under.
The shine left on my screen; loud as thunder.

I pick out the nuggets & lock them up.
I separate glitter from cup to cup.

What’s leftover is sand iridescent…
For tiny hands in the poorest crescent.

It’s never a gold rush I chase to mine.
Just impregnated clouds with lights divine.

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lbstowe

I see the world through a Painter’s eyes and process it with a Poet's Heart....it's quite a harsh place for the soul. It scratches and wears your true self down, at times, but the Beauty is Addictive. I feel for everyone I encounter. Everyone I encounter is a teacher if I'll let them be. I Empathize with everyone I talk to & I Think about Everything-LEVi

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