From: a wave of sunflowers

A wave of imitationary suns
rolling in the wake of gentle hills
All in revered attention defying plant defined virtues
Basking fiery faces returning impudently glances
Follows the true one in desperate chase
A Buoy of all giving eternal life
Bobbing across a calm blue untormented sky

A king to be wails as plucked from branch in stem
The air invades tiny lungs arousing mighty cries
This is i
know my decrees
The sword that commands the elements belongs not to thee
Like the edge that hangs above that king
its judgment of justice hangs by the threat to balance
Only in the realm of arrogance intoxicated dreams
of illusioned pillars and gleaming beams
Disguising tomb into a womb with colorful shadows
Enchanting definition of extreme reality
Better even than real
van Winkle Virgil unchallenged sleep but awake actually
Dragging diseased ambitions further into common depths
a false womb a ready tomb
Hiding all by means of agreed darkness
See not mind if not mine
But ...
still visions betray enslaved reverence
flowers ever still radiant
but ... my brows grow grey

almost humble a grudging bow
yearnful parting in welcoming anticipation
of the returning day
The flower creeping alike an aged nun
blissfully climbing steep temple steps
an old relied stony friend behind every pace  
to ready in greeting a welcome to the returning  Surya
Beaming over a gentle wave of sunflower glare