Guest guest Posted May 18, 2006 Report Share Posted May 18, 2006 A Stravinsky Rite of Passage Before I was God I was a Poet searching through the holes in my tattered shawl unraveling at the thought of my nightly vision, the visitation of Love, my Beloved, that intimate moment between the kiss the deep dark evening gives to the promised day, as the sun moves mountains across an endless, cloudless sky to the sacred fire in the spine of creation in lust and desire magnitude and a thousand million years of Solitude and tears already moving away, apart like a Lover who leaves a scent on my pillow as he breaks away, waxing and waning the darkest moonlight, heavy on his shoulders, as he turns away leaving my shattered heart blessing all that remains of my daily nocturne sliding down my lips drenched in a hard black rain, leaving petals of another landscape to be painted in the harmony of my love on a strange and distant shore, once again Lovers drifting above the orange blossoms as stars melt and I saw it was Good. I am wingless now. I am hopeless. I am nothing if not Love. Outlined in discreet contours of Silence, falling as Starlight, falling like Grace. Love, Ana Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2006 Report Share Posted May 18, 2006 Nisargadatta , " anabebe57 " <anabebe57 wrote: > > A Stravinsky Rite of Passage > > Before I was God I was a Poet > searching through the holes in my tattered shawl > unraveling at the thought of my nightly vision, > the visitation of Love, my Beloved, that intimate moment > between the kiss the deep dark evening gives to the promised day, > as the sun moves mountains across an endless, cloudless sky > to the sacred fire in the spine of creation in lust and desire > magnitude and a thousand million years of Solitude and tears > already moving away, apart like a Lover who leaves a scent > on my pillow as he breaks away, > waxing and waning the darkest moonlight, > heavy on his shoulders, as he turns away > leaving my shattered heart > blessing all that remains of my daily nocturne > sliding down my lips drenched in a hard black rain, > leaving petals of another landscape to be painted in the > harmony of my love on a strange and distant shore, > once again Lovers > > drifting above the orange blossoms > as stars melt > > and I saw it was Good. > > I am wingless now. > I am hopeless. I am nothing if not Love. > Outlined in discreet contours of Silence, > falling as Starlight, > falling like Grace. > > > Love, > Ana very nice..very! A Seranade of Spring....on the Island of Freedom. .........bob Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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