Friday, October 4, 2013


Gazing at a painting
in a niche high above our heads,
I tell my father,

When we’re
on our knees,
the stars come out

And we marvel at this change
the master wrought,

His name long lost,

The surrounding bricks
of interest,

For red knows the best way
to and from our hearts,

Just as dreams like this
gently raise the dead,
then lay them down again.


Jan said...

OMG, William...this is so poignant, but beautiful~~~

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Jan....

manik sharma said...

I was blown away,gently and painfully by this..Good see you back..Life must go on..

William Michaelian said...

Yes.... Manik, I appreciate your note. Thank you.