Hi it’s good to know you. Stay blessed.
Regards, love and peace.
Rashad.
Chairman: Hope development organization.
Email: chairman@hopedevelopment.org www.hopedevelopment.org
Beyond the horizon
where naked skin of Earth
presses
naked skin of Sky
children of imagination are conceived
in intercourse of mystery.
Time curves…. Dragons
form circles
in bubbles of eternity.
The ageless shepherd of our shadows
enters the pasture
that was and was not green
before the birth of poetry. Dreamers
drunken in the breath
of dark divinity dream
in secret dramas of their souls. At
times wild cries out for wilderness.
Or meditations of a mountain’s crest
become light’s prayer
in hearts of darkness.
Creation consents…. Nomads
bearing gypsy tents
thirst for twilight. Ancient
fires in books of alchemy. Riddles
of each night. The longest
word in life… is “Yes.”
The expression
of the beautiful genius
opens like a wordless
rose
and clothes us
in the fumes
of paradise.
Somehow
when we are
listening to the wings
of crows and the
tender melodies
of elfin butterflies
we feel embraced
by the breath
of angels.
Beating
so softly, so
delicate-sweet that
velvet on a virgin’s
skin
might touch us
with an offering.
Though
we are there, out
in that other place
the familiar cup
of a summer’s rose
rises
from this ground
to kiss us
with the miracle
of its pouring passions.
And
we are downed
supine
into the common
haunting symbolum
of earth’s
dense mystery.
Though
not a single
word has swollen
to the lips
like a cherry
freshly swollen,
but the heavy
buzzing
of a working bee
lost
in the ecstasies
of pollen.
And
we are spellbound
and complete.
Like fruit.
Like garden.
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Namaste
Regards, love and peace.
Rashad.
Chairman: Hope development organization.
Email: chairman@hopedevelopment.org
www.hopedevelopment.org
you are so kind
have lovely time
kisses..
nice to meet you
hugs..
Mody.
Love Is All ~ Warren
Beyond the horizon
where naked skin of Earth
presses
naked skin of Sky
children of imagination are conceived
in intercourse of mystery.
Time curves…. Dragons
form circles
in bubbles of eternity.
The ageless shepherd of our shadows
enters the pasture
that was and was not green
before the birth of poetry. Dreamers
drunken in the breath
of dark divinity dream
in secret dramas of their souls. At
times wild cries out for wilderness.
Or meditations of a mountain’s crest
become light’s prayer
in hearts of darkness.
Creation consents…. Nomads
bearing gypsy tents
thirst for twilight. Ancient
fires in books of alchemy. Riddles
of each night. The longest
word in life… is “Yes.”
David Sparenberg
11 August 2009
The expression
of the beautiful genius
opens like a wordless
rose
and clothes us
in the fumes
of paradise.
Somehow
when we are
listening to the wings
of crows and the
tender melodies
of elfin butterflies
we feel embraced
by the breath
of angels.
Beating
so softly, so
delicate-sweet that
velvet on a virgin’s
skin
might touch us
with an offering.
Though
we are there, out
in that other place
the familiar cup
of a summer’s rose
rises
from this ground
to kiss us
with the miracle
of its pouring passions.
And
we are downed
supine
into the common
haunting symbolum
of earth’s
dense mystery.
Though
not a single
word has swollen
to the lips
like a cherry
freshly swollen,
but the heavy
buzzing
of a working bee
lost
in the ecstasies
of pollen.
And
we are spellbound
and complete.
Like fruit.
Like garden.
David Sparenberg
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