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Now Is The Time When The Sun Burns Red

Now is the time when the sun burns red

And the mind fills with memories -

Not of events, but of coloured emotions

Swimming and mingling in a cosmic sea

Like music in the unconscious, before birth,

Swirling in inchoate, intense passions

Ofthe underseas: love, loss, regret,

Spiritual triumph, satiated desire,

Life on the cusp of youth, all undecided,

The future open as a mad vision

Over mountain-tops onto clouds rolling

Upon unclear land, thoughts unformulated,

Without sense of distance, without making measurement,

Rippling springs bouncing over rocks

And finding new instant patterns of motion

Newly-spontaneous. without a plan,

Before even the idea of a plan could form,

Like the sound of the bird in the forest who sings

To the youth before he meets the maiden,

When the sky is for flying infinitely up,

Surrounded by blood-red rays of the sun.


Cloudsley, Tim, MA; British independent academic researcher and writer, poet, essayist, and short story writer resident in Colombia; formerly lecturer in Sociology at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh, Scotland.

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