On a black wall, that sucks out all light,
the songs of birds are smothered.
There is no sense of scents of Spring!
A simple mark we scratch:
This brightens the tone.
This red wall its pulse persistent,
the fist-sized muscle throbs,
two light bags swell with fresh air – – –
These are what move me, this and a sense of joy
of rising each day under sun and soft rain.
A grey wall now, splashed and muddy.
Is this Nature’s path out of the mind’s mire?
Stepping through brooks, wind at my back.
This abundance of trees, birds whirling,
There is only calm.
There is this white wall, upon which sunlight pours warm – – –
Undying, wincing strong, all embracing.
The wings of Angels, rays from stars kiss it also.
This is where I swim.
Immersed in mornings, the Moon’s smile also visible.