Ode to the moring skylark

The rays of the morning sun
glitters through the
silvery clouds,

The morning symphony begins.

i see the skylark inside
humming the
note of agony,
in despair for the long wait of the pregnant cloud.

i hear the beat of the heart
couched in love
in search of the mate, in vain

wait for the cloud to rain,
wait for the mate to reach
and
wait
for the shrill and shriek of the wait,

waiting is joyful, its hope;
waiting is blissful, its for the doors to open
waiting is ecstasy, its for the souls to know

and the wait , ageless
in a space known to none

and the wait, space less
through the time , eterna