11-29-2009, 06:16 PM
THE MICRONESIA MIST
By a Micronesian Poet 2009
As I watched
the Micronesia,
The peaceful lassitude
of each linear
of the horizon,
Woven so delightfully
into the history
of Man,
Woven surely
into their blood
since they were a babe.
As the moon
taken its path
down the end
of the ocean,
Stand to witness
the golden-brown
of Micronesia,
As it is,
A beginning
of another dew.
The Mist
that we meet
in the Linear
Morning of Waves,
Prepared us
travelers
of this
To another,
As our resignation
rushed through,
And on our heels
we faced
cold determination.
........We tapered
in silence,
As each temptation
was our expression
of The Pacific.
Curious, we ask....,
"Does the Mist call you?"
newmicmag
By a Micronesian Poet 2009
As I watched
the Micronesia,
The peaceful lassitude
of each linear
of the horizon,
Woven so delightfully
into the history
of Man,
Woven surely
into their blood
since they were a babe.
As the moon
taken its path
down the end
of the ocean,
Stand to witness
the golden-brown
of Micronesia,
As it is,
A beginning
of another dew.
The Mist
that we meet
in the Linear
Morning of Waves,
Prepared us
travelers
of this
To another,
As our resignation
rushed through,
And on our heels
we faced
cold determination.
........We tapered
in silence,
As each temptation
was our expression
of The Pacific.
Curious, we ask....,
"Does the Mist call you?"
newmicmag
newmicmag