the inner heart
calls a cover of clouds
to shadow themselves
across the day.
A cello cries
the mind to sleep
and it forgets itself
to own anything
but the fragrant
traces of the now
across its skin
and in its nose.
Freedom set
free in infinitesimal
bursts of axial and
atomic disruption
of what we feel is
solid enough to
hold up our "I"s
and our "me"s.
Gone in the whispered
revelation of a koan.
Can there really be
anything
beyond this full surround
sound
of longing wails and
gusts of soul play
for the ears that have
been planted in every
square inch of our living?
It is how
an iris calls you in
to the moistening deep
chamber of meaning
that shares some liminal
space between your
heart and it's very
stigma lip and anther.
Our eyes fall on awe
sending wonder through
our nerves and corpuscles
until
we
feel
content.
Splendor falls
on us in unexpected
moments, carving
out a place in us
in which it may
reside. A bumblebee
rising from its place
among the lavender
penducles on what
seems to be effortless
lift.
Image from: http://www.46northfarm.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/lavender-bees.jpg
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