My heart in thorns is entwined
where light like night
in indigo shine
weary, with fright,
the meek and uncertain
away does divide.
My heart is in brightness conceived
to rhythmic a beat,)
under thick coating beginning to gleam
revealing the true
and releasing to being.
My heart its own breadth now admits
seeping through thorns
sharp rays as it cracks,
open at last
to life’s greatest gift
as eternity in it softly may drift.
She swims in a vastness which drifts
and within its essence caresses;
in affection of past, foregone, uncovered,
through rhythm and motion and boundless expanse.
So it becomes
(her advance of no mould)
in uncertainty covered and tension released,
as she swims through the vastness
(swallowed by it)
and her fondness softly embraces.
Dancing and folding,
the lure through a distance so forceless and free.
Living and breathing,
your gaze where eyes openly both of us see.
Observing and asking,
of closeness contained in the embrace where you flee.
Leaving with you the path clear to me
and awaiting the call which us both shall set free.
Taking your touch
– what temporal fancy –
for naught in the past
and much less the present
there for us lays.
It lays thereafter
where torrents connective
There, where emptiness lays
and the disparate in closeness delivers.
Sensing it certain and grasping unable
in there, where nothingness lays.
Ineffable, that void perpetual
where all which is worthy shall seed.
From it and through it,
arriving at once,
the knowledge embodied in madness conceived
by gifts collected from unity’s trees
you touch me and through me are freed.
There comes a time to give
To give and give and give
As the source ethereal
Forever boundless remains.
A vessel, aperture or spirit, no less
What there, below, swells.
It is not the I that such current draws
But the current that the I distorts
Should one so permit
Its abundance, put lightly, simply to be.
I cannot shape what I is;
What I becomes, surely,
Or the past the I can recount.
The present, however, is but what I allow.
Hop past that stone
To skip to the next
(Jump, stress, race)
Seeking forever a new one to face.
Counting the stones
To move to the next
(Hop, skip, face)
Never enough those stones that I chase.
To look past the next
(Count, move, chase)
Blinded as ever to the path that I trace.
Stopping at one
To see my own place,
(Eye, look, trace)
Vision in stillness I start to embrace.
Standing in current
To feel my own space
(Stop, see, embrace)
Restful in knowing there’s no need to press.
Playing in turning
To grow from my base
Learning at last how the now stone to grace.