Where verses grow quetly,one stanza at a time...
Snow
The untimed snow rushed insulted against the glassed shoulders on the poster,
and they were made of paper, they were bare…
It cried, scalded, on the painted, colorful faces,
and they were made of paper, they were bare…
Its outraged tears transformed into tears of joy,
and through them they were still smiling,
not caring for the bitter cold,
in defiance of the delayed spring,
Because they knew,
It could not wash away their colors,
It could not cover their bare shoulders.
Winter
So utterly,preciously,dashingly white,
so breathtakingly,dreamingly bright,
winter’s here…
Like a mirror of our inner longing…
to feel
and see
and touch
with our fingertips
and lips
and eyes
The fairyland once beheld long time ago…
hushed
tucked
and soft
and yet aloft…
A glimpse of heaven...
Dragonfly
transparent
in rich blue color
shimmering,
chasing one another
Life,
pure life
can be celebrated freely
without interruption
in the quiet stillness
of a moment
of unexpected joy
and presence.
The song of the birds
that has so much to say
can be painted in words
that unveil worlds
waiting to be seen.
A quiet moment
in the intermittent play
of light and shadow
on the virgin leaf....
You have to become
small and humble
to bend
and to go
through the bars
of the cage
that has become irrelevant now.
Because you are
a butterfly now
that goes through them unaware
of their presence.
You are
the dragonfly now
perched on a small brown branch
pausing to rest....
You are
the fresh dark purplish fruit
so sweet and yet unpretending
that grows
and ripens
and love the sun.
You are....
Your arms are
the arms of the brambles
that try to hold on
with their pointy fingers,
pleading the passerby to linger a bit more there...
Your mind
is the intertwined green alcove
of the trees above you
like neuronic paths
leading to a place
where we were one once,
One mind,
one body,
one presence,
a universe born with a bang
but living in presence,
in stillness that nourishes all.