poppies | The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere

As red poppy petals fall through the air
against a perfect bright-blue sky;
life-long soldiers watch with tears in their eyes,
children look up in wonder-
the smiling faces of boys and girls are of pure joy,
while the haunted faces of the battle-scarred
can only look-on as they hear the sound of distant thunder.

A storm begins. The raindrops that fall are slow in their descent,
and when they hit the ground they are almost unnoticeable;
then, within seconds, the droplets multiply,
the clouds darken- turning day into night-
and the wind wails like a weeping angel.
The rain is like a curtain,
a screen showing the power of an untamable nature-
the spectacle is so incredible that people in offices at work,
and people looking out of a window at home,
have to open a door or a window,
because to them this is a ground-breaking, amazing,
summer show of a feature.
Lightning creates patterns of light and sound
against black clouds the colour of outer-space-
that make you feel like you are under the influence
and the control of something that can stop you in your tracks
and make your heart race.

Two different skies, not that far apart.
One sky, two different people from two different worlds,
but who are of the same world, and who have the same heart.

We live on a shared world,
we all live a shared life,
we share a history with one-another
even though we may never meet face-to-face,
and we all share the knowledge, the feeliing,
and the gift of being alive.

No matter how young or old you are,
no matter if you have been blessed your entire life with everything,
or whether you have lost your sight-
the thing within you that makes you who you are never goes away,
and can be felt in someones voice,
or seen in the twinkle in someones eyes,
if you listen for, and if you look for, the light.