tomorrow, perhaps
you are the fire that burns
inside the crying flute
i need to believe in rebirth
to be able to touch you
.
behind this satin curtain far from the crowd, i see
your silhouette dance the night away
.
your eyes, i can’t see
are they flickering with anger
shining while mouth obliviously chanting
are they weeping with agony
.
or staring at the silver stars
listening to the one that’s tempting you with its careless laughter
like when life was young
what’s now surreal was actually real
.
there’s no such thing as time machine
but there should be a second chance
like tomorrow
perhaps, we will have tomorrow
I like this..
honeyed glow
Like the images of the crying flute, curtain far from the crowd, careless laughter and time machine. Well constructed poem.
the fire instead of wind that makes the sound of crying flute, is how Rumi expressed the longing of the dervishes to God. it’s the same kind of longing that i tried to express in this poem. thank you so much for dropping by, Gordon Mason