Penetration

The mountain peak is penetrating the sky, That lead sky, hidden behind the indigo clouds, Tapping with its shade the rain shower, Which beats the world of emaciated feelings. Those feelings keep the encroached souls In a mesh of life without hope And in a framework of themselves. The sky is penetrating the mountain In its valley's green depth To the place, where The life's last illusion flows In the middle of the chasm, Where the running water galvanizes The gold silence, Weary wandering seemingly to nowhere, Trying to resist its metamorphosis In the time sight And on the time ear. The echoes of its sound Are penetrating a new spring on its own, When the absence of the old one means not forgetfulness. Unlocking the ubiquitous meanders, Making the rain shine. The cold gray stones With their arms and their breasts Are freaking the pick of their thoughts, The strength of their iron veins And their paradoxical conundrum Like a voice, that is still alive, Or like a mysterious touch. Poem by Marieta Maglas Variant The mountain peak pierces the sky, hidden behind indigo clouds. Its shade touches the rain shower, bringing relief from the world of emaciated feelings. These feelings trap encroached souls in a cycle of hopelessness and self-imposed limitations. The sky is penetrating the mountain in the valley's green depth to the place where life's last illusion flows in the middle of the chasm, where the running water galvanized the gold silence, weary wandering seemingly to nowhere, trying to resist its metamorphosis in the time sight and ear. When the old spring disappears, it does not imply forgetfulness; rather, the echoes of its sound are infiltrating a new one on its own. revealing the many meanders and letting the rain sparkle. The strength of their iron veins, the cold gray stones with their arms and breasts are similar to a voice that is still alive or an enigmatic touch.