Migration in a summer of lovely language


Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Brinkburn-Priory-478920570

9

These words have survived separations
Faces I can no longer remember of loved ones
Poetry has transcended my decades

Spacious and fluent like a last reminder
Of why truth is no longer as important
As beauty, inner beauty of a spiritual quality
Alphabets now shelter this candle
This life that was my hopes and dreams

These most intimate self-deceptions
Wildest faith of wonderful illusions
For a moment still I am there

With moons and roses, aware of nothing
But the shine of creativity on our inner cheek
The mineral blossoms and lotus of our imagination
It’s pure there to write like drunken water
In a light of its own color, reflecting the pauses

Silences, spaces in-between relationships and solitude
That was the best quality of the life I lived.

Psalm 5


47

Give ears to my words, O Lord, that I may be healed
Consider it my meditation
Of a poetry without end
Hearken unto the voice of my silent cry, my Sovereign King,
For unto thee I will pray, quietly
My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O Diamond Lord;
In the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up
To the vigilant Sun of my few days on Earth
For thou art not a God that hath pleasure in harshness and disdain
Neither shall I dwell upon my ills or misfortunes.
The foolish miss thy sight with petty thoughts
They shall destroy themselves with their negativity
The Lord will abhor the warlike and deceitful mockers
That hoard and do not ask questions of laughter
But as for me, I will come into thy house with shining eyes
Full with the mercy and compassion of the wretched
And in thy fear of all ruin shall I worship a higher way
Towards a holy temple by thy feet
Lead me, O Lord, where I my own worst enemy
Make my path straight before my face.
Let me be silent until my wickedness does melt;
For my tongue should be a healing grace
For my heart should spread some vibrant joy
And my soul a shield to men pass an eternal flame.