Dandelions.

So, as I am sitting in the balcony on my "rest" day, gazing at the silk floss tress already blooming with their lilly-like pink and white flowers, and all the calyxes just inspiring the air, I'm bound to be good friends with poetry. I love poetry. Sometimes, I mean to write a song but it ends up being a poem. I'm not so good of course, but poetry is just my mystical, unearthly language to express the conversations I have with nature and my own spirit. Prose is not always very efficient, is it?

So, this poem was inspired by a beautiful observation that shall haunt me with its mystery and beauty. Everytime I just think of that day, I fall into a beautiful daydream. It was June twilight and we were driving near the fields and forests, and there was this one piece of land fully covered by yellow dandelions and some purple dainty flowers, the grass was short and there were some trees encompassing the field. What actually haunted me was that soulful mist ascending from the field, and it just occured to me that the mist was undubiously the soul of those dandelions, praying before dark fell. The feelings accompanied were indescribable, but right before I fell asleep that night, I wrote a poem, which is one I'd like to share.

--------------------------------------------------

I see the mist at twilight
Souls of the evergreens to my eyes
Giving out their all
I myself breathe in the fresh air
Watch the vapour in despair
It steals the sight,
The dark swallows light
And the ray of hope finally disappears

But I count one two three
Dandelions in the field
Swaying lightly, ordinary as they feel
I wonder: are they free?
As their buds rupture in the spring
But they're just a beginning
To a world blooming in their wake.

The darkness is a veil of fear
An invisible cloak, impossible to see.
It blinds your mind to the light in your soul
The dreams you painted yesterday
Tonight you shall ignore
But the spirit of the trees will topple on the clouds
And they will spill all their clarity to vanish your doubt
The traces of them shall linger as it dawns,
The mist shall be an imprint
And it will carry on condensing

On one two three
Dandelions in the field
Swaying lightly, ordinary as they feel
I wonder: are they free?
As their buds rupture in the spring
But they're just a beginning
To a world blooming in their wake.

It's not easy to accept
It's takes courage to forget
About the reality to face
Eye-to-eye, there are glimmers in the seams
With your fingers you can chase the realm
Split the apparitions apart
And free yourself
From the rust settling in your heart.

I picked one dandelion
And put it right beside me
Inside it, soul so young and nourished
So it shall teach me.

--------------------------------------------------

Soraya.