Sleepwalking
As twilight trespass on the foetus of the
sky
to sprout forth the moon,
We step on seaweed and sand dunes,
off the tidemark.
And wallow in the Mediterranean Sea,
transformed!
We cheer and smile with a silvery grandeur.
And the waves of our smile
wrought to beam back at the celestial
lights.
We are the Mediterranean
And the Mediterranean is us
We are the Mediterranean
And the Mediterranean is us
In our utopian errands, we wield some
majestic force
– we flow; smooth, crystal, long and wide.
And all along, we see the pillars and
arches of Venice.
And compare with belief – in our drowsy
psyche
– that, they had sprung up overnight like
Cape flora.
We
are the Mediterranean
And
the Mediterranean is us
Sensual, yet so soon
we walk back our regal persona
against the roller-coasting slumbering role
beyond the eyes of the shore.
And at a wink,
we are still a mite of mildewed brooks
scattered on a thirsty
–
albeit – emerald green landscape.
We
aren’t the Mediterranean
