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Orlando Sky; You Are The Sun; Shadows Near Dawn by Brian Michael Barbeito

the Orlando sky, love letters home

can I find where I used to be, again,

where I partly grew up and carried my books and clip board and pens in my blue knapsack? I don’t know. how ambitious and clever, judgmental and ruthless, materialistic and uncaring, cold and calculating, the adult world is. but will you accept me in your arms again, you, who they say was once called ‘the city beautiful?’ what breeze sways leaves in the night, better than man or woman? what birds fly impossibly high under the clouds just then in the pre-storms, better than the worldly ways and inhabitants? why did they take me far away from you and your days and nights? something somewhere I must have done wrong, to accrue karma, though this I cannot remember. i tell you what…if you love me, I will love you, and if you don’t, I will always love you anyhow, like how it is when the birds are part of the sky.

You Are the Sun

there was the super flower blood moon and the nocturnal rains like bad dreams. but you are the sun. there was the world, oh my god and word, how miserable and low, petty and shallow. but you are the sun. there was the witching hour and grey dawn, w/the angel absent and the psychic discord of mean souls in the air. but you are the sun. there was the world frozen, the hopeful and inspiring wildflower of the pastoral field gone long ago, as if it never existed, and I told whoever I could about it’s beauty but nobody believed me at all. but you are the sun. there was dismay, discord, even death and no re-birth, just a thousand bad memories. yet you are the sun. there was the long lonesome sky even the birds gone far away, trading winter’s dark for summer day, and the wind vexatious, the towns unwelcoming and acrimonious, the cities saturnine and sinister. but you are the sun. all the major and minor arcana disappeared save for the Tower card. it painted itself upon the world everywhere. I went to the loam and stream, the sea and lake, the earthy valley and ridge and even to where fires tried to burn brightly. but there was nothing really, truth be known, and I could hardly see the earth. it was as if even day was night. because you are sun. because you are the light.

shadows near dawn, letters home to a soul unknown

and the lake is a paramour, a mistress, much loved but not the essential. because I recalled something else forgotten. i remembered suddenly that I had gone out and seen the sea, and it was dawn, and everything was contained there yet bursting out in light. parapets stucco. old catamaran to sit upon. the darkness and shadow slowly being warmed and lit as if from a paced and deliberate spiritual fire. the mind far away, the heart speaking to this hearth, a hearth from a source unknown. and I could hear the waves lapping and thought of all the souls that passed through there during those years, and maybe the years before I knew of it. the whole and existence had brought me there…karmas, providence, fate and fortune, circumstance. and I knew where the sandbank was and the pier that went out and out,- oh all the things. and I had gone alone on the path, the sand path framed by verdant palm leaves in humid breeze, yes trees that spoke still a little to the moon and even to me, shadows near dawn, telling the most marvellous and intriguing of secrets that you ever heard.

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