Reflections upon a Venetian Square

Light seeps through the cracks of a liquid pavement
in all its colours, the apparent and the subliminal ones.
Where do they go, where will they flow, is not a care
as much as it is a grateful awareness, seeping through
cracks of a parched mind and flooding a tide. A tide
of a sense returning, not like a wave, but with the soft
if cold touch of a ripple left upon the retina by a black gondola
gliding muted songs and hushed kisses along a wake of moon
upon the night. The square unfolds its many faces reflected
before my own reflection of thirst that begins to find
the face of its own quenched core. And the eyes upon that face
are at last the ones that flow again, without a care
the grateful awareness of all the colours and all the light
seeping through the first of many sighs, with the cold
yet reviving touch of a breeze that blends the salt
of just one tear with that of the whole sea. Then, I flood
with the tide of masks, devoid of all but that one face:
My own, naked of a gaudily, desperately searched spirit
in antics of colour apparent as those of a clown
and unveiled as a true , subliminal moon, waxing liquid smiles
of a serene happiness reflected upon another face
along their own blended core and wake of liquid lights.

© 2006 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®