An all-seeing eye of cosmos opened
within me having an epistemic sense of
power. The rain trickled down the oval-shaped
wet window. ‘Twasn’t a blue eye, yet ’twas bluing.
The blues of the stars
out of their core. Over
your tasting part of the tongue full of sensations
about itself, suffering words
struck the silence between us. I could not
comprehend their sense- their meaning
sank in the sadness of the rain.
The blues were absorbed by this rising dreariness.
I couldn’t see you. Nor could I
achieve the tranquility of mind. However,
I might presume that God might see this.
© copyright Marieta Maglas