PILGRIM

THE SLEEPING GYPSY, 1897, by Henri Rousseau
Magpie Tales’ Prompt for Mag 209

The voice,
terrible as a roaring lion
sweeter than a song,
sent me
to the unknown
life
in exile
is a trial
by illusion –
shadow is light;
lie is truth;
Truth means Nothing.
I
witness
to Nothing
was cast away
into the desert
I fled
with nothing
and the Voice
above the din
calling me
Home.
At last,
I could lay down
my weary head
yield my weary soul
then kiss the dust
that would take me back.

~~~~~

Please click the photo above to go to MAGPIE TALES.

I am sorry I have not been to your pages lately.  All of us here have been stricken by spring fever, almost literally.   The bug has been busy making us uncomfortable.  Meanwhile, we are on a little spring break and hopefully, I will be able to catch up with you this weekend.

As always, thank you for dropping by. 🙂

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16 comments

  1. Hi, Imelda! I hope you had a nice little spring break! You’ve been writing lots of poetry lately–something I haven’t done in a long time. Life has been too busy! I’ve enjoyed reading them and seeing your flower photography. Have a great time thawing out and enjoying more daylight and sunshine! Best regards, Sandra

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