Every Sky is a New Sky

EVERY MORNING IS A NEW MORNING
and EVERYDAY IS A NEW DAY
and EVERY NIGHT IS A NEW NIGHT

BUT STILL
I WISH I COULD LOVE MORE

AND EVERY ROSE IS A NEW ROSE
and EVERY FULL MOON IS A NEW MOON
and EVERY SKY IS A NEW SKY

BUT STILL
I WISH I COULD RISK MORE

Has anybody seen
my blue eyed boy
You know the one
who held dreams
like a stuff toy,
in my small arms
but there was no one home to love or understand me
it was a mystery what they handed me
what I needed to soar
was obscured no one took score
So now I reach inside
I got nothing to give
Just throw out on my knees naked
in a world hanging by a twig

AND EVERY HEARTBEAT IS A NEW HEARTBEAT
and EVERY BREATH IS A NEW BREATH
and EVERY SMILE IS A NEW SMILE

BUT STILL
I WISH THAT I COULD BE MORE

AND IN EVER ME CRIES THERE'S A NEW ME
and IN EVER YOU CRIES THERE'S A NEW YOU
and EVER BUTTERFLY IS A NEW BUTTERFLY

BUT TIL THEN
I WISH THAT I COULD LOVE MORE
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2012
About this poem:
Blowing through heaven and earth, and in our hearts and the heart of every living thing, is a gigantic breath—a great Cry—which we call God. Plant life wished to continue its motionless sleep next to stagnant water, but the Cry leaped up within it and violently shook its roots: “Away, let go of the earth, walk!” Had the tree been able to think and judge, it would have cried, “I don’t want to. What are you urging me to do! You are demanding the impossible! But the Cry, without pity, kept shaking its roots and shouting, “Away, let go of the earth, walk!”
Animals appeared--worms--making themselves at home in water and mud. "We're just fine here," they said... But the terrible Cry hammered itself pitilessly into their loins. "Leave the mud, stand up, give birth to your betters!"... And lo! after thousands of eons, man emerged, trembling on his still unsolid legs... He has been fighting, again for thousands of eons, to draw himself, like a sword, out of his animalistic scabbard. He is also fighting--this is his new struggle--to draw himself out of his human scabbard. Man calls in despair, "Where can I go? I have reached the pinnacle, beyond is the abyss." And the Cry answers, "I am beyond. Stand up!"

-Kazantzakis

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Comments (2)

beautifulyou
hi surprizeme,
i absolutely love this poem !
i don't know how i missed it but
glad to see it now. many of your
shares are lovely... of gift. ty. rose
candykid
This is a really nice repetitive format which is difficult to do without being overly repetitive. ....thanks, and thanks Beautifulyou for finding this....thumbs up
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