Salvation

with a curious look i stared at the wild - wild white duck how gently it shook off all the dirt with  luminous water and how aptly  made her self  cleaned.   
man is not the problem;
it is the misery of thought,  in the curled brain, the riddles  that block the way forward
hands are  empty and can hold
the moons- soft and silvery,

there has always been  magic  unless and until unanswered
and the sky is ever expanding to the tune of our dreams and desires ;
a pulsar lost or did never exist but there is enough space for the red red blood  and an enormous blue
for the restless and
jittering heart.