We search for words to aid us in our quest
Too often, though, our gathering of words is not enough.
For each phrase that we create is rearranged somehow in its reception;
tones sinking far too deep within an altering recognition,
changing what they greet as they themselves are being changed.
Past and future meet just then, within one
shape-shifting in continuing and multi-colored hues of moods.
Wide-ranging is the introspection found within an opening out
as a spectrum of pure colors synthesize the all around
back into a single, solitary, unique and extraordinary particle.
Dancing just as it assumes a salient shape
that moves in space,
intertwining with another in the movement of all time;
shining brighter than the nebulae that fill the early nighttime skies.
Concentrically, it rings around the center of all being,
magnetized into a whirling pool of effervescent energy.
Spiraling then, it moves and blends as if
it were advancing,
while ever moving further yet away from its conception;
within a hazy maze and diving deep into adventuring,
while drifting ever higher up its spiraling eternity of form;
where matter always being born defies each instant of a sudden death.
Further yet along the matrix, moves a syllable
of uttered tone;
within a zone that seems to know itself so well, it swells,
like waves that move in giant tides, beckoning and wise;
speaking in such welling tones to all that dare behold it seem
to sparkle there while beating back the cliffs of all indifference.
Tone into a syllable, mix and match, another
and then a never-ending flow begins to write itself of air,
whispering through leaves of trees and grass that sways
and plays within this gifted tapestry of life that holds itself,
reaching out again to hold all else within a misty grasp.
The searched for finally found, these living
entering and leaving in a mountain of deep meaning,
that climbs itself to reach the peak, and peaking,
then must speak the words aloud within the clouds
as this quest for understanding is fulfilled beyond and yet within
imagination dreaming every thing within a syllabus of form . . .
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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