Poetry

CHEAP THRILLS

The thrill of creative effort

Photo by Nik on Unsplash

Time tastes of life Time flings us all off the roller coaster of youth dumps us in adult strife, pretends to save our life. Unburied, six feet down and 5-miles high, we pass over the mountains of the rising sun in quantum leaps as the sun rises from the sea the sky burns, the rain falls, the days pass. In the forgotten distance, the sun fades into a ball of light as it saves itself for tomorrow. Jesus keeps on, going and going. We never look back at the blue mountains, as the sun bathes in blood, red behind us, the sky is crying, dry as shadows cast a pall over the future-past. We discard: ambition, money, children, fears, years; fires we light in the darkness, the music tunes itself in as slow times pass. Telepathy breaks the cruel circuit of tears, the never-ending retreat from childhood as we sing of the journey through the mountains of the mind into the heart of it all. Come! rise above this horizon keep on going and going. the sun will rise for a final time, from the sea of ​​days, and the sky above us begins to burn and cry as we seek sanctuary in these unfortunate mountains.

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