Colored Squares

I keep seeing colored squares of glass in front of my eyes;

As shinning parts of ceiling, they lay beautifully in the sky.

Raising my hand in the air, stretching hard, I try and try,

To reach and touch them, but where they are is too high.

The sun will give them life and slowly warm their hearts,

I see a flat top made out of colored squared parts,

Blazing softly in mornings of smelling coffee on the table,

Standing quietly outside, under an old, kinglike hazel.

And there is a chill wind in summer stroking my face

I smell wet earth, I close my eyes and I embrace

The voice of nature, the way it lives with deepest grace

She honors me and welcomes me into this space.

She whispers me to find myself, to live and learn

To see the beauty growing inside an useful thorn

And keep the self in youthful skin over the time,

She is mother, father, shelter – home, she’s mine

To cherish, to admire, to fight for it and to protect,

Against all tides might be casted upon

She grows from deep inside and keeps me strong

Like every pill with its own side-effect.

To strike the sky, same as lightning and shape the earth,

In storms, never to the end of time, I dream of fairytales, no lies,

To return to the very basics, to the best rebirth;

Still, all I see are colored squares of glass in front of my eyes.