You Tell Me

You tell me stars are diadems
in the coronet of night
as I seek the furrowed brow of god
and glimpse the opalescence of one eye.

You tell me clouds are barges
bound for ancient Avalon
as I seek the vapour trails of jets
and remember holidays in Benidorm.

You tell me hills are giants
standing guard over treasure hoards
as I seek the significance of broken pots
and the rusted hilts of swords.

You tell me streams are ribbons
to adorn the forest's windblown tresses
as I seek the chemical factory
and hear the rasp of logging camps.

You tell me love is a phoenix
reborn daily from fires of passion
as I seek the evidence of scorched feathers
and find bones amidst cold ash.

You tell me stories are archetypes
that connect us all together
as I seek the Freudian explanation
and say; the sex is good, but really...