That Night

 

“… hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of life,
in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful
which God has implanted in the human soul.”
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The night breeze reached through
the open window like furtive fingers,
intermingling with the soft music that caressed the night air:
♪ ‘mountains of sorrow and rivers of song‘ ♫

the flickering flames of candles danced,
casting mosaic shadows against the divine visage
that smiled down upon us

the bubbling of the water pipe was reminiscent
of a flowing brook, lovingly murmuring into the night
as it reflected the luminous light of the moon

There were joyful sounds of laughter in the distance
occasionally sweeping through,
intermingling with the cadence of our hearts

Your eyes, so soft, so gentle ~
when they fell upon me, they caressed my soul..

I listened to your voice
as you read to me your poetry,
and sang to me your songs,
each word delicately wrapped and held by the music ~
then gently falling upon my ears
and deep into me..

.. deep into the subtle serenity of that  night
when sleeping spirits awakened
and dormant souls revived

You closed your eyes and your heart spoke
drawing inspiration from times long past
from a place deep within the ages
channeling the wisdom of sages..

Mesmerized
I find myself falling into your spell.

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Ransom

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In night this ransomed heart
self held in quiet captivity
past dreams as seasons pass
make way light path’s serenity

In light this ransomed heart
doth bleed
into chalices overflowing
and rains upon the hollow reed
a melody softly blowing

It mourns of rogue and shattered dreams
it sings in brilliant azure hue:
What price doth satisfy
self capture’s ransom due?

Wanderers In A Field of Flowers

“Behind the blood-stained curtains of Love, 
there are fields of flowers where lovers wander.

To wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart.”
~ Rumi
Image

A girl once wandered along a field of flowers, feet bare
Carefree and unafraid of what she might encounter there

She knew the thorns she removed from her staunch heart
were the launching point, from the point of depart

With the promises that come with the freedom of wings
that portend magical Hope and other beautiful things.

She stopped in the midst of flowers abounding
held out her arms to soak in the sun’s rays astounding

Her head raised high, her eyes serenely closed
no more tranquil an image could have been posed.

Soon thereafter, a feather from the heavens fell
suddenly appearing, as if cast from a spell

It gently danced and glided, sought out her hand
as if searching for a warm place to land

A feather of the most vibrant hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

No sooner had the feather ended its flight
there followed a most ethereal sight .

It was the most exquisite bird,
and suddenly,
something within the girl’s staunch heart stirred.

On her outstretched hand, the bird gracefully landed,
peered into her soul, her attention it commanded.

Resplendent and fine, its feathers in all those dazzling hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

She could not help but caress those fine feathers,
as she stood amidst the irises and the heathers.

The bird sang a melody so sanguine and so sweet
only briefly it lingered in sorrow,
a song reminiscent of times long past,
and a subtle promise of tomorrow.

As the bird then moved to the palm of her hand
its beauty, a stunning mesmerization;
the awareness that it may soon fly away
was a sudden and terrifying realization.

She held it with care, grateful for each moment
treasuring each offering like a gift from a lover
Is your heart here to stay, she wanted to ask,
or does it belong to another?

You are not from this place, she thought to herself
You belong in paradise, your heavenly abode
Are you visiting, dear wanderer? Or lost, searching for home?
Still pursuing a path along your designated road?

How easy it would be to close that hand
hold the exquisite bird there forever..
It would sing to her every day,
A bond that would not sever.

But love is not of a forced possession
In her being, this she knew.
That vibrant light would surely dim
There would be no more vibrant hue

And so she wandered on in the field of flowers,
towards the blazing horizon of the dusking sky.
The majestic bird perched upon her open hand
as it sang the songs of days gone by.

Fear remains, along with many thoughts awoken
they set behind the fiery orange-crimson sun,
they hide behind fragile promises spoken,
and gold-gilded intentions begun.

Twilight descends, infused with the disquiet dark brings
accentuated by the stillness of night..
‘but the morning brings strength to her restless wings*’
and Hope, emerges with the Light.

 

*Jackson Browne

The Deepest Scars

All your life you have been the giver,  the supporter,
the one who has to remain strong for everyone else…

And then one day a special person comes along..
And is able to see through your facade of strength;
Able to see through your “I’m fine” as his penetrating eyes gaze into yours;
Able to perfectly translate your *sigh*s.

May I hold your hand?”, he quietly asks.
When your smile shyly acquiesces,
he takes your hand and holds it with such gentle firmness..
and all your fears disappear
as the early morning mist disappears when the sun rises.

And when he takes you in his arms ~ gently encircling you ~ enveloping you in warmth;
It is akin to being submerged in deep, calm waters;
breathing serenity;
absorbing tranquility;
cocooned in a sanctuary of tenderness.

You rest your weary head upon his strong, broad shoulders…
and all the years of turmoil effortlessly melt away.

And when he kisses you ~oh, his kisses..
the world disappears.
Time stands still and nothing else matters.
You float..
you float so high,
feeling your feet may never again touch the ground.

You see, the scars that are deepest in our heart
are the ones that remain long after the pain is gone —
long after we have forgiven,
and perhaps even forgotten.

Then that one person appears, and he reaches in deep,
even deeper than those scars;
and it hurts
oh, it hurts.

He reaches in, and rips them out..
and you bleed..
and you hemorrhage..
and you break..
… purged of all your tormented past.

Yes, it is the only way to heal,
the only way to fully and completely revive,
and become whole once again.

He knows exactly what to do with the broken pieces..
how to look at you,
how to hold you,
how to kiss you,
how to soothe you.

He somehow found his way through the maze of your barricades
scaled the walls you had erected
and effortlessly tore them down.
He did not give you life, but he resurrected it after it had been asleep for so long.
And you did not know you were sleeping.

When inward tenderness finds the secret hurt, pain itself will crack the rock and Ah! Let the soul emerge.” ~ Rumi