Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Wind Song

Wind Song


Caught a’fall through cobwebbed memory,
balance calm within storm,
echoed enchantment.

Joined merriment of dancers,
glide of movement
choreographic poetry,
mindful
poignant whispering of song
wyrding motion,
a chance to beatifically play

where love is a symphony
from which breath expands
each to each,
in brief season.

In the wind
stories, blow, whirl,
wisp, purring gentle, insistent, strong,
going wide, long, dipping below.
A galaxy of swirling lights
blinks bright, dark, invisible for a slow
millennium or so;
only seen outlined in night minds
obstructed by veil, by shadow, by
"No, that can't be real."
Until softly swaying melody
caught still in some fantastic sirocco
casts about for local color,
adoring djinn bleating for succor.

The field dances
hungrily with wind, with wild.
In the eye of eternity, wise
as any child, as any wizard
myth could conceive,
This One, This Master of
enchantments (believe, my kin,
believe) takes fluid stand.
Takes true command.
Raises eyes, mind, arms
to conduct transcendent music.
Sky and ground converge
lightly, marry grace and supplication,
make merry conversation,
soothe wild beasts from
silent space with dervish charm.
The few picked to observe,
learn to carry on these tales,
loose from sobriety.
Enthralled by call of magic,
work a new reality.
Ride high on dragon scales,
spirits entranced.

2 comments:

Jeffrey Whittaker said...

You have talent! Your ability to describe poetically with such rhythm casts a spell on the reader! Rhythm is power, a hammer to the soul! Pump! And never grow old!

Jeffrey Whittaker said...

Emptiness can be filled with one whole being. Harmony requires two whole beings.