the rising of the sun.
is it the beginning of a new day,
or the ending of a weary night?
seems to signify a start, an end.
the color of your eyes.
is it the beauty of its color,
or the purity of the gaze?
seems to signify appearance and soul.
the green grass growing.
is it the height of the blade,
or the depth of the root?
seems to signify pride and will.
the delicacy of your touch.
is it the stroke of the hand,
or the warmth of your body?
seems to signify inner spirit.
the hunting hawk.
is it the length of his wings,
or the resilience of his feathers?
seems to signify quantity, quality.
the never-ending caress.
is it the immortality of its passion,
or the stopping of time?
seems to signify the importance of the hours.
the withering of a flower.
is it the death yearning to be noticed,
or the reincarnation to another?
seems to singify eternity.
the tone of your voice.
is it the soundwaves harmonizing with mine,
or the comfort of its melody?
seems to signify music.
the breath-taking view.
were it the eyes that benefit,
or the memory that lasts?
seems to signify temporary and long-term happiness.
the breath-taking kiss.
were it the lips that tasted elation,
or the life that now grows roses?
seems to signify the effect you have on me.
everything signifies
the significance
that was once
nothing.
seems to signify love.
(c)2003 mai kozai
silence is also music. {2:54 AM}
Thursday, July 17, 2003
the song of the rain
the thunder rolls its mallets
against the timpani.
a deep growl escapes into the atmosphere--
the overture of the symphony.
the flash that welcomed the opening
was the gentle flick of the conductor's baton,
now zigzagging its way down
from the heavy clouds to dry ground.
the rain begins to fall
and the intermezzo begins.
from each drop, an unique tone.
pizzicato of the strings, and then
the chords of sheer pleasure.
downpour and the wind blows fiercely
a melody of anger.
howling between the trees,
the wind makes music with the changing angle
of the leaves.
finale-- louder and louder,
pompous and obviously maestoso.
with the strike of lightning,
a crashing of a cymbal.
the atmosphere abysmal,
but the music, grandeur.
and the rain continues to fall
among us, to perform for us
the rain's song.
the last note a fermata,
and the conductor now absent.
(c)2003 mai kozai
silence is also music. {4:04 AM}
the poet
mai sharona.
december 5, 1984.
davis, california.
a sucker for flowers.
