I write as quiet as the Dew
Accustomed then, to my private
Flower, in an accustomed inner-realm
Where I am a fictive dream
But a symbol on a page
Once white, now transparent blooms!
My words drop as softly as the stars
In less skillful melodies than before
Sorer to believe that I have a gift
The Bee of mantras is not afraid of me:
I know the Butterfly’s secret stanza-home
I race to silent woods cordially
With Brooks that laugh louder
Than the forgotten rhymes of time
I write as quiet as the Stream
Who sings of madder breezes at play
For we can only create natural things
Even in our Olympics of alphabets
Better to be a writer, than an actor on the stage –
I relate better to neighbors imaginary
Than the marketplace of the dead.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Adoration-427932167
Wuji Seshat 
‘Bee of mantras’ ‘Butterfly’s secret stanza-home’: lovely images: hard work, organisation, the brevity of inspiration, nature – all these come to mind when I read.
Yes I tried hard to come up with odd interesting images. Phew I’m beat now…
Splendid, Wuji! I found myself forgetting to breathe, such was my joy in reading this masterful work! Encore! Encore! *** 🙂 ***
Ron
This is a feast of imagery. 🙂
Treats for your soul hopefully Melanie 🙂
Your poetry is amazing. I like the photos. They give life and strength to the poetry.
Thanks again John.