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,
and 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,
bearing all.
-
In the spectrum of swirl and sway,
that bends us blindly,
it can feel like lava, opening up spaces between dead grey rock
and red hot joy
-
I keep time. Lose beat. Assuage thought and feel
so deeply at home,
when I am in stillness that I simply never want to leave
my whole body pulsates, reverberates in the constellations within
-
The discomfort ebbs, finds flow
lights this darkened 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.