The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

-W.Shakespeare

Tuesday, 27 May 2014

My Own God, the Sun

I want the Sun
           the life that it grows
           the star living deep in our bones.
I want the Sun
           the world that it shows
           the world’s warmth shining in our homes.
I want the Sun
           the explosion of cosmic flows
           the stars exploding out of our souls.
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