BLUE No one is here, no explorer has come nearThe yellowed book is still hereMy fingers sketch each mountain, each landscape, my eyes have not seenThe ridges that grace my skin are like the borders
of the nearby places I have not beenAlthough the earth and stars seem near, the need to conquer is unclearAlthough I yearn to see what makes up glaciers and galaxiesMy working fingers will not reveal what is behind meMy robes limit me from turning but not from learningThough I wish to look beyond my desk, it is a luxury too complexMy spirit like that of a caged bird, continues to sing a sad melodyI, too important, impatiently wait, for the ideal explorer to put my mind at bayHowever, all too soon the sun does set; I am left alone and upsetThe blue loneliness washes my face of all color and fateLike the hue of the ocean, my feeling the sameExcept the ocean I know not what shadeBut blue is what I color on the south corner of my page |
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