In the absence of mind, you weave in to unwind, scarlet-ed passion and worry behind, boil and toil would surely be kind, to know your hearts desire hasn't resigned.
What is it that you see, in your heart of inifiniti?
What is it that you know, in that place that drums your soul?
There is a home waiting for you, there is a place you always knew, look inside and do unto, move with the rhythm that entrances you.
Wade and ebb, gloss and glow, let your movements speak your whole.
Bow and tilt, spin and whirl, love yourself and truly unfurl.
Inside yourself love patiently waits, for gifts of passion to emancipate, the once soaring bird trapped inside the crate, a heart's desire to penetrate, the illusion of state: separate.
(Written Sunday, September 4, 2011)
No comments:
Post a Comment