Sky chord of breathing--It is old
and Always Open. Open-ing
The within the without--flows between any boundaries made...
Earth time. A heat. A sustenance. Family
Hop on. The blur; It moves. Quickly
but remains, essentially
feathered, season by season ...stillness; flight.
It grazes together on blooms of light;
Etched to remember
rock long stacked by hands.
Hand shaped world-- our marks fade
simply, quietly; an elegance
emerges; leaning each to each, as we.
One Angel frowns since June 17, 1783.
Primitive the mouth the eyes; all is Spiral
and Eternal--these hours; these mirages of color the eye drinks
here where Silence leans on itself, here the majesty--within us
sight, smell, touch stitched to all the emotions of a life.
I wish Peace to all who enter here --
and these last lines from Pablo Neruda's poem
I want all the hands of mankind
to knead mountains
of bread, gather
all fish in the sea,
all the fruit
of the olive,
all the love still unawakened,
in the hands of the day.
are they open. your hands
willing to give--this awakening love of which we make and are made.
I say yes