Tuesday, 28 May 2013

words words words

Evening sun
Birdsong and the garden –
Your voice lingering too.

As the shadows lengthen
The poplars seem taller,
Vapour trails criss-cross.

In the shadows
of sinuous water weed-
silver flashes.

The water’s surface
A mirror
Stained by fleeting reflections -
Even this silence
Brings you to mind.

Knows no resistance.
It knows Itself
No less
No more.

Bending to the force,
I caress this flower before me.
Soft it opens shy, and gently draws me in.
Now taste becomes ardour,
ardour becomes passion,
and passion unfolds as vision.
Sight reveals such a tender landscape,
its tides, its mountains and valleys.
Verdant, richly embroidered spaces
beyond time and place,
all held in love's generous embrace.

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