A mid-spring dusk settles down amid the bud covered limbs. The grey is darkening slowly into night, and flames are born in a ring of rocks. They lick the dry maple, drinking of the earth. Doing so, they breath more grey into the clouds. Our eyes are locked with silence, yet the key lies on our tongues. On the hypnotic orange’s dancing feast sight anticipates. Water moves nearby, its exodus over cooler stones recorded on slow words and carried to heads too filled with exploding ends.
A circle of minds joined in sense is without movement. Within enchantment souls find deepest rest and hearts fill on rivers of forever. Lungs draw in deeper and deeper the world’s soul. Eyes lift and follow delights from all souls to few souls, and soak in rivers of this night and every night.
Branches grow together, to hold in, not out, the white stars. Cloth, not leaves, and no bark either, cling to these softer reaches. Warmth of fire in flames and friendship drink further in endless loops.
From the message of the moon, voices lift their prayer-song of what always is. It lights the airs with truth and resonates with compassion. Story-songs move each with past and present. Promises spill from syllables and take wing, following the fleeing water-lives on to futures.
Embers give up their last lights, and voices quiet to leaves’ whispers under wanderers. The whispers walk beside the cool words of flight, while branches keep light low and mingling with their guides. Night continues her dance with partner moon as warm sleep holds the held.
A circle of minds joined in sense is without movement. Within enchantment souls find deepest rest and hearts fill on rivers of forever. Lungs draw in deeper and deeper the world’s soul. Eyes lift and follow delights from all souls to few souls, and soak in rivers of this night and every night.
Branches grow together, to hold in, not out, the white stars. Cloth, not leaves, and no bark either, cling to these softer reaches. Warmth of fire in flames and friendship drink further in endless loops.
From the message of the moon, voices lift their prayer-song of what always is. It lights the airs with truth and resonates with compassion. Story-songs move each with past and present. Promises spill from syllables and take wing, following the fleeing water-lives on to futures.
Embers give up their last lights, and voices quiet to leaves’ whispers under wanderers. The whispers walk beside the cool words of flight, while branches keep light low and mingling with their guides. Night continues her dance with partner moon as warm sleep holds the held.
It’s new, written just now with speed. Any thoughts?
2 comments on “Fires”
its really good. you are so talented.
😛 nah