Still

October 25, 2012 by admin

I sit in garden bordered magenta
seek pardon in hoarding of light-
the dance around this place in and out
of other worlds
around that tree of life,
and the others, this bird,
teaching mysteries of flight and nectar
this earth,
teeming with nature run wild
etheric pulsing without ethic
of mental form – my house there –
yellow and moving blue
the gravity of this soul;
and sitting here in poppies
red like old wounds recut
in seasons
the shadows seem much blacker
in rising light so strong
my eyes must close.

And closing eyes I find
purer souls of loved and dead
passing inner arches
leaving tokens
formed from faster feeling
to one who sits
in silence where light and shade
touch each other and wave.

Mother I am,
and mothered to earth
faithful until the shadows
consume the final light
whiter than I can hold in form
and we find
we are no longer many-
but blazing one sun to other
galaxies to splinter ourselves
once more.

And perhaps there I am the lover-
with Apollo in pastures unthought
after vows to fragile earth
release to new-born melody,
and northern pole stays encircling
this inner chant
of artemis nobilis
hands arrows sharpened by unborn love
reaching into Eden.

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