Atmosphere

Atmosphere

Shades,
If it weren’t, would fall like the fruit;
From the tree, in the unready hands
Of the beholder and whisper its smell
In the untrained holes…say something
Appeared as meaning in the unprepared ears;
As a child in its orbit, matures.
 
Layers,
If it weren’t, would splash like foams;
After a roar, into the deaf sands
With meanings inside its folds
Hugging the unsuspecting land… moment by moment
With the same degree of opaqueness and secrecy;
As a child bit by bit, turns old.
 
Shadows,
If it weren’t, would whisper like flash;
Without a pause, into the mirror
That neither sees nor shows until it is close
The world becomes… ready trained prepared
Listens to emotions of atmosphere;
Roaring whispering lying, clear inside.