Into Our Innocence

The moon is just beginning to allow
its vision to begin again in nighttime skies
as the dark of cyclic nature calls
in muted whispers of the rain that falls
(so softly and succinctly
in the rhythm of our pain).

Hear the melting snow within its flow;
and see it streaming goldenly
admitting sparkling sprites to dance
within this known reality
(abating the insanity
of endless playing days).

As anger, in its many forms
is released to speak in dreams
where utter sanity confuses mind,
and yet defines just what we need
to understand the most
(and here we come to meet
our seeming nemesis).

Yet could it be a daemon
(oh, purity of such creative form!)
not yet quite within angelic form
that seeks to speak within these realms
that dream themselves entirely alive?
(If so, what muse has entered in
to speak within our dreams
in a form so intimate and utterly inviting?)

Genderless, this voice that speaks
within our inner ear
(or is it multi-gendered?)
taking us to realms beyond all tears,
where life becomes much more
than wish or will could e’er conceive.
(Surreal – the feel of multileveled
life, where forms of flesh will float
succinctly and distinctly in this form
of matter opening unto itself)

For the moon is just beginning to allow
its vision to begin again
within the dark of night
calling us within its muted whispers
of rain and spirit falling up
to reach yet one more level
(evolving, oh great evolution
ascending without end
within the feel of our descent).

And mind is opening again
even as our hearts ascend
(back into the innocence
that only love can bring to be)
in life that’s true to form . . .

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .