He Must Have Improved Into A Better Variety

for now he is speedy
like light penetrating the tainted
glass of the
church window

for now he speaks the tongues
of the foreigner

for now he understands
the meaning of shadows
and the accent of
the winds
that come inside his
framed windows

for now he does not
wait
for any moment
he goes and goes like
a bird without a map
for its wings

for now he is
carried by the streams of his consciousness
and he does not ask
any question anymore

for now he does not bleed
for he has healed himself
as his mouth waters
for the smell of his new breakfast
in bed

for now he makes love
throughout the night
and sleeps on the day
filling his skull with
all these dancing dreams

for now he has the wings of the
big black bird
taking him
in the places of anywhere
in the timelessness of anywhen.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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