Thursday, February 07, 2008
No, thank you.
This morning’s radiance is windborne, a cleansed pool
with its own indelicate clarity. I prefer rocky places
where kinder light gathers like a nest of clouds.
Precision has not been my ally. Sharp edges cut
and absolutes curl around my throat, verdant, thorned,
never blooming. In silence I find a soft unraveling,
a pillowed sigh and there the frayed hem crumbles
into the shadowed breath of petals crushed. My gown
is a an attar of silk-stitched stars and muted fire.
I wish the day curtained with whispered sun,
where I can bask in uncertainties, warm my hands
with their vague comfort. I shun the knife-blade tongue ,
its pearly hilt so tightly grasped, agleam like a dagger
of the gods. I leave the raindrop’s argent mirror
on the leaf for braver souls. I care not to see
the truth of every thing.
Posted by Sea Dream Studio at 8:46 AM