The sky flows like a river into these eyes,
there’s a golden mean and meaning somewhere -
but not right now, not in the city square,
not in the swoosh-words hoardings advertise.
But there’s no place where the river doesn’t flow,
and gold is hard to get and hard to keep;
unless you count the sodium streetlights’ sweep
and signage blinking in LED glow,
and this darkness that’s some percentage light -
partly wakeful crickets, partly starshine
the horizon a faint fluorescent skyline
the towers vanishing into their own height.
Nothing extra anything else can impart –
the seeds of light sprout deep within the heart.
It's Diwali week - the festival of light, which is on 6th and 7th - I'm celebrating with some more poetry readings at a local Diwali fair. Apart from the traditional oil lamps of course. Happy Diwali to you if you are celebrating. Have a brilliant week and November.