Underneath the burning gaze of the midday sun,
it whispers secrets, old tales spun.
In the hum of light,
a language known to none,
I walk the line between the lost and the won.
Clouds scroll like scripture across the sky,
I decode their shapes as they drift on by.
Every breeze a message, every shadow a sign,
bridging dirt and heaven in this mind of mine.
I’m the oracle of daylight,
reading rays like runes,
hearing hymns in the heatwaves,
talking to monsoons.
Maybe I’m the chosen,
or maybe just profoundly lost,
bound in a holy moment,
no matter what it costs.
Visions arrive with the dawn,
retreat at dusk’s approach.
In the loneliness of sunlight,
I find my silent coach.
In the plainest moments,
in the clear and the still,
I feel the pulse of something
bending to my will.
Whispers of forever
in the warmth across my face,
I stand alone,
caught between time and space.
Is this madness or a revelation so divine?
Bound to the heavens,
yet the dirt is still mine.
If the sun speaks, I will listen with care,
for in its burning voice,
I find something rare.
Between the whispers of heaven
and the murmurs of the ground,
I wander through a cosmos,
praying to be found.