Symbiosis

I paint words
With open eyes,
And dreams unfold,
Freezing the time
Into feelings of gold.

I see music,
Pearly teardrops,
Stirring up inside
Restless words,
And pictures alive.

I sing sculptures,
Molding the space
Into translucent shapes,
With starry eyes,
And silhouetting arms.

I hold brushes of colors,
Blossomed into shapes,
I hold constellations of words,
Melted,
Danced into notes.


© Copyright 2011 Cristina Miller.

Circus

We're walking the tightrope
At the circus tonight,
High above the tamed animals,
And children laughing
At the marvelous sight,

Clowns wearing their bright, red smiles
Painted on sad faces,
A hundred jugglers with fire in their eyes,
Riding the invisible horses.

No trembling stars in sight,
No open skies, and dancing night,
No breathing trees in focus,
Just the silent echo
Of absent acrobats,
And magicians fading with a distant hocus pocus.

All is bright, and false, and loud
In a world where only the show matters,
Tension rises, as hands applaud,
One by one, the children's dreams fall asleep,
While reality scatters.

We're walking the rope of stars,
In the sky tonight,
Far beyond the worldly circus,
The light engulfs our eyes,
Eternity stretches between two hearts.


© Copyright 2011 Cristina Miller