I feel alone,
Like the starry cold sky hidden in a day's light.
I'm still here despite the radiant shine that is played.
I could scream it for all to hear,
If there was any air here.
It is all being consumed by those wasting their breaths,
Chatting about a grain of sand.
I am but a wave in this ocean,
But the truth is I'm drowning in its undertow.
The riptide is my only friend,
Taking me to depths to rest peacefully.
Who knew that there was water in space?
Who knew that I took up space?
I feel alone.
Like the starry cold sky,
Hidden in a day's light.
About the Creator
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli3 days ago in Poets
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