the blue

the blue that is forever

half of a whole day

on half of a whole world

every day

clear as lone howl

of harmonica playing a duo

with the train whistle warning

when the hobos can scream unheard

their longing for home

the blue that is forever

gets it's color from reflection

when it's your birthday

four years old was awesome

and gone as forever

as a first kiss is permanently

unrevoked by way of it's name

still only a reflection

a face touching its lips in a mirror

eyes closed

the blue that is forever

has stars spinning unseen

whipping tiny water droplets

into frothy white clouds

invisible big dippers

playing electric storm games

pushing windy cacaphony

into eventual lungs

of a newborn gasp and shocked cry

the blue that is forever

is ink upon a parchment

promising Voynich codeness

for future mystery seekers

that touch a changing

interpretive continuance

while believing in comprehension

as comfort in it's illusion

the blue that is forever

is really clear

a reflection of deep ocean worlds

known only in faith or theory

as yet

among the unseen mountains

and shipwrecks

lost treasure sifts in the samds

the bones of a hand

holding sizeable gems

made by djinns

of ancient India in exchange

for worship and lust

in the cage of whitewashed fists

their memory chronicled by

the song of whales