The shadow that I leave or that I take
with me through language, the light limiting
the objects of a god. The infinite aspects
of whirling luminaries, the evil prayers
of mumbling charlatans. She casts a shadow
on the soft wet earth and the tall tree
reaches its arms toward the Sun. I love her
without a reason, without coherent argument
nor appropriate measure. The playful illusion
that's cast on the walls, there are no barriers
for the beloved in this place. Not even words
can hold her, the cycles of warm red hearts
that communicate love. I am the leaves
that wait to fall when everything is silent.
No comments:
Post a Comment