Looking and Loving

Looking at the clouds I am being mesmerised

By their white tails and curly shapes

By their full bellies poked like Buddha´s plump chubby chuckle

of tranquillity and absolutely no struggle.

I am flabbergasted by their blurry bodies

of golden rays sent from the Universe and

by the airy condom like layer guarding our future prayer.

Observing the distant horizon bald and hilly

sparsely poured by spires of sitting trees in the sponge of woodland´s blanket

like soldiers in their trenches

-          crouching in freezing winter haze soaked in whiskey sweat

-          disappearing in vapours of atrocities of fighting.

-          in foggy mist and misty fog of repeated history

-          tears of lonely horny days are trickling down through their beards

-          while clutching in their blistered filthy fingers pictures of their maidens

-          whose pigtails are tickling their shoulders proud of bold fighters

-          and corners of their mouths are seducing all passer-bys

-          crippled by stupidity of unsolicited sacrifice

I am stupefied by the sharp light prickling my sight

making my eyes squint into Japanese lines.

Looking at the abandoned grey cloud´s posture

moulded into smallish fish whose protruding flippers are caressing airy breeze

I am mystified by its unique swimming along its peers

as if it were a definite article defining already defined oneness of things.

And I think of you while resting my eyes on aeroplane paths

-          Paving crossroads all over the blue window into the unknown,

-          Severing never delayed birds ´ flights chirping away their cheerful songs

-          elevating the wings of my fallen spirit

I love the copular verb that makes you be

I love the grammatical structure of you name ubiquitous in every vein

I love the distance between us

making our longing urgent and never ending

I love our getting closer

 diminishing the space by gerund pacing and its friendly noun pace

I am darting towards you

 like a voice blurring out from someone´s throat.

like a shot triggered by your little finger

slowly slicking my hair into smooth foreplay of our game

I am holding my chin up high confident to catch your unborn fame.