Guest guest Posted December 27, 2003 Report Share Posted December 27, 2003 Chrysanthemums, bronzy-bell, dew-filled, golden-bowls, storm-bowing, bent low in spilling morning teardrops onto dream-snow. The bitter, north wind's brittle skin of wild-tossed plum blossom, winter flushes, red-crushes sky-petals of sunset's mauve'd awesome. Against the warp and wail of tens of thousands of streaming friends, the tear-dropped dream-drop, golden-colored living hymn, ends & begins. My kin, Winter, colored seismic in arc, in companion's cries sweet-bringing, calling out from astral fields, starfields ink, our loved ones silent-singing... "I was happy enough to stay still inside the pearl inside the shell, but the hurricane of experience lashed me out of hiding and made me a wave moving into shore, saying loudly the ocean's secret as I went, and then spent there, I slept like fog against the cliff, another stillness."* ~*Rumi LoveAlways, in Loving memory of our Iranian Friends Mazie Take advantage of our limited-time introductory offer for dial-up Internet access. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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