At the eleventh hour
the dead leaf
Almost scrunched underfoot
transforms to glittering butterfly
in the January morning frost
-
It does so magnificently
Rebirths through ache
In its dance
to something else
-
Melted, surrendered to threshold,
wordless bridge, we almost
nearly
touch
-
Ask me to come closer. Let's talk on moonbeams
Walk on ribbons
of parallel thought
holding high and low together,
both, bearing all.
-
In the spectrum of swirl and sway,
That bends us blindly,
It can feel like lava burning, opening up spaces between the dead grey rock
in red hot joy
-
I keep time. Lose beat. Assuage thought and feel
so deeply at home, when I relax in stillness that I never want to leave
my whole body pulsates, reverberates to constellations within
-
The discomfort ebbs, finds flow
As darkness shines light
On this divine conversation
-
I talk to the world sideways on my pillow,
To talk up close
to you
-
Thanks Mike. Interesting to hear your word 'expansive' . It's tricky to encapsulate my thoughts, I sense I'm trying to write on 'expanded intimacy'. I'm feeling a Renaissance of sorts coming, maybe I'm feeling it personally and spiritually.
I'm making it personal, trying to describe how it feels to me. Was it Joyce who said 'In the particular lies the universal'
I've been interested to hear Maria Popova, Esther Perrel, @susancain and @elizabethgilbert, Rumi, Hafiz and some poets & authors here influence me on these topics of longing, connection... and on holding inherent contradictions on emotion, life and spirituality.
Love poem! It is expansive and evocative.