Sometimes the sun is red
sometimes it is not
Everything depends on the atmosphere
I shout in silence to your absence
You hide behind broken mirrors
We have a blue environment
far mountains through afternoon glasses
I face thorny visions when I try to set eyes on you
STOP
Don’t stare at me like that
I’ll cry if you do it
Come with me
There are no golden apples in the horizon
It’s noon at the end of a storm
There is time
WHO AM I TRYING TO CONVINCE?
Eternity is gone
always has been
Only reflections with no words are left
flat images with memories of depth and a tacit conversation
We are burying the last sun tonight
No one seems to care
Fifty two moments of passion and no sacrifices for new light
_____Adriana Citlali
XVII-V-MMIV
XXIII-X-MMXIII
This is an old poem that I wrote back in 2004.
I reworked it today to participate in the Open Link Night 119 at dVerse.
dang…this builds really nicely….the 52 moments there in the end…is a nice crescendo…i like how you use color through out as well….very nice piece….
Thank you, Brian. I like the number 52 as it has a meaning of a full cycle in the Prehispanic world.
Wow, I wished I thought of that line “burying the sun.” And I love how you incorporated that number 52. I find various numerologies fascinating. 5+2=7, which is fullness of earth and heaven in the Hebrew/Christian bibles!
Thanks for an interesting comment. I like numbers both from the math-analysis point of view and from the mythological one. In the Aztec mythology 52 is a full cycle for a sun. Each 52 years a cycle finished and sacrifices were needed in order to have new fire –a new sun.