Fata Morgana

Sworn into secrecy
We waft in the air
With innocuous wings
Slicing the horizon
To reveal what we are
This mirage,
This esoteric mesh
This loud silence
Venting through the fringe
With all the colors
Of the blackest stars
With streams in our eyes,
With candles in our palms,
Who are we to judge
The meander of hearts?
When we are astray
From the very start
Cling onto hope
Cling onto fear
Cling on with you lissome hands
Let the beating be surreal.

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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