the world offers it's painted illuminations and i try not to spill the words in an attempt to occupy the space reserved for the silent reverence
of the wind blown anemones,
for the way the sky resembles the emotions of a woman with plum stained hands cupping the planets,
for the green things that are less impulsive in their responses,
for the power of the presence of another,
for the creatures that bow to the elements and instinct,
for the paths and the doors and splintered fingers,
for the detours and u-turns and perseverance,
for strangers and smiles in reply,
for the scars and the skin we call home,
for disconnections and knots and the threads
to transcend the limitations of the language i love
i tried not to spill the words,
but reverence is thoughts which are words which are holy
and my heart is the language, the author, the alter...
7 comments:
truly shamanic.
yo uare absolutely right! abaut sleeping that is - I'll do the same and come back tomorrow for a visit : )
... here lives the poetry of the heart ... wonderfully ... :-))
I have been back again and again as I always do when visitng your poems.
And sometimes I just have nothing to say....
sometimes I spill the words too much.
Sometimes I enjoy the silence of the words too much.
Sometimes the touch of a stranger's word is enough
It is very beautiful. Makes me to think about the whole world. How small it is and how we try to fill it. And how huge the universe is and so unknown.
We are so small.
Warmest Monday greetings.
Pure.
here by you there's so much beautiful poetry ... that's great ..... yes!
Post a Comment