In one of those rare moments, the Muse smiled on me. Perhaps it was the frustration at my lack of sleep after a 6-hour layover at Heathrow and a subsequent 6-hour flight, or just my lucky day. But smile she did and opened up that now rusty and creaky door to inspiration, the fruits of which you find below.
I wrote this as we descended to Addis Ababa Bole International Airport.
Under the watchful gaze of a smile-moon,
the peeping sun kisses the horizon,
ever so lightly casting orange hues
in this deceptively furtive foray.
And so ensues this dawn’s cosmic dance,
the victor known yet the players play on.
Below, a thousand stars stare unblinking:
mere spectators, they think otherwise
as if thoughts on their hushed voices count –
as if will devoid of action yields much.
Soon enough this delusion is rested,
buried in the spur of reality.
Light betrays the tedious serene darkness
as lush alternating sighs of the earth
that form continuous mounds of deep green;
here too we chance beauty unfolding.
Nakedness of Night will die, till the next.