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The Hope Above

My morning sights
Are often brimmed
With the rising
Awesomeness.
They are often warm,
Such mornings—
A bird or two,
Peck
At my window;
A bunch or more,
Flick their tails,
Picking this and that
From the earth.

Today, I woke to the rain.
The cold greeted my feet
Before the rest of me;
I smiled,
As I greeted the waters—
‘Could freeze to crystals,
Colder than ice, by the day,
We would still say
Hi and bye.

I stood at the window,
Watching the rain,
Feeling the cold
Creep
Under my pants,
And through
My sleeves…
My toes, my fingers
Could curl,
My hairs all over
Could stand,
But
I would still watch
In awe, amazed,
At the abundance
Of blessings
In a morning,
So beautiful.

I would still watch,
Reminiscing
A time, once little,
Once pouring—
’twas an afternoon,
I was alone, watching,
As I did, traveling
In thought,
As I do,
In every rain.

Driving, riding, walking,
And exploring,
Lately,
I have afforded
More attention
To the sights above:
The sky, with its
Changing forms,
Its appearances
In sunsets,
And in sunrises,
And its perpetual clarity
When end to end is blue,
Like a massive ocean
Of above.

I look at the clouds,
The distant hills,
The horizon—
It all blows my mind.
I love the sights
Of the advancing fog
Of dawn,
Of the orange splash
Of rays.

I look higher
When night falls,
And the moon comes out
By the minute, her glow,
Advancing, reaching,
And ripening
Into pure beauty.
Smokey clouds
Dance with the winds,
Dance over her—
They try to dim her.
But,
As she reigns,
All earth quietens;
All earth knows,
An eye looks out,
Even when sight
Is naught.

The stars…
They align, and they scatter;
They cluster, they, masters
Of the darkness beyond
Darkness, beyond
Perception.

Faraway,
We look, we smile,
Holding hands.
We make dreams, we kiss;
We fall in love, we make love.

Our stars,
Aligned, and scattered,
And clustered, masters
Of their destinies,
And their dreams,
Their futures…
Someday,
Look up at the sky
And see
More than we see
Because
There is everything,
And yet,
How limited can sight get!

I have lived
For only a fraction
Of life,
Yet,
I have looked around
The earth,
And for a good time,
Greeted it, explored it,
Gotten to know
Its secrets and its truths,
Its pains and its joys
And I wonder:
What more is there to it?
What news to expect of it?

In my small fraction,
I have looked up
Countable times,
Every passing year.
But why?
With all that beauty,
All that life,
All that greatness,
Flying by, and free
All that mystery.

Look up, dear one,
And look down—
How do you feel each time?
I can tell you how I have felt
Always…

Life gets disappointing.
It gets sad,
Moving forth, hard.
But that is only the life
Sitting here, with us,
Where all the gravel
Ought to settle.

What about the life
That flies with the birds,
Blown by the winds,
Gliding and gliding
Over clouds of kinds?—
What about it?

I can tell you how I have felt
Always…

Below, lies little hope—
All that remains.
It shrinks, and swells,
Eventually shrinking.

Above, high,
Hovers untapped hope—
You could smile,
You could lose
Track of time,
You could afford
Some love
And some time
To only experience
Such rarity
In abundance.

Look above more.
As you sit somewhere,
Or stand, or walk;
As you drive, or ride,
Look above—
Wait not for things
To make lesser
And lesser sense
Down here
Before you look up.
Do it now,
Do it every day—
Live.


Look at her:




##

Original photos (05.25.21.20:14)

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:

Benie Langat

Benson Langat is a poet, fiction writer, and freelancer. A dreamer, he realizes a world of possibilities through stories and explores life in poetry. Benie is a dad and lives in Nairobi, Kenya.

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