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 A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, and got in your eye. |
| When you can inhale first fresh air without narrowing lungs, frozen amid gales, I squeeze the tender hand warming my digits in the thaw, streaming, gleaming in the barely dim. Nostrils filter freed soil returning from the soiled, soft banks fleeing like black icees drained, descending in pointed, paper cups -- just as winter candles when wax wicks droop, seep beneath the ground. I long for seasonable color, but the eternal light of a once tender soul ignites a spectrum of revision. All seasons start and end, even without us. 3.14.21 Envisioning glints of former memories in this brief season...inhaling what essence remains through whatever negative capability. |
| Fasting: "Can only imagine it's about mindfulness. If we are not consumed with distractions and sensations, we are closer to centered and spiritual, self-fulfilling truth." Heart beating quicker, Breath yearning harmony, Shallow settles Into inner vision, beauty -- The soul of you Recalling -- Warm rays penetrating Our cotton Where we laid. Your eyes absorbed the blue Of two spirits dawning My heart slowing Yearn your sighs, Deep encouragement Our inner vision, beauty -- The spirit of two Warm rays reprise Soon after sunrise, daily -- Dawning on one soul A heart aching alone For your deep encouraging Tender lips once again. 3.14.21 |
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Great poem, Brian.