Love itself matures within
of all natural creation;
where oceans of emotion
run in tides and cycles of the moon.
So ill-attuned with all the rush and push
that modern man has deemed
his life to be: no more than speed.
Here every step we take becomes
another newly risen point of no return
no matter memories we may have gathered
for ourselves along the way.
Be they of pain or ecstasy, they must disperse
within the mists of utter being
But then, just as with fear,
these feelings flee,
to wander far from home.
Until sunlight dawns
within a sphere
of ever brightening awareness.
Oh, the pull of tides
controlled yet by the moon,
that seeks no more
than just to croon
of loving days and ways;
before the sun began to burn
the mists of our creation far away.
Yet spring is risen once again
beyond the dullness and the pain
of icy winters spent in isolation;
and once again it rises in a flood
of great emotion.
Just when the hour of our
comes to be another note
within the ever changing chords
of mystery and history.
And love matures,
becoming endless cycles
of the known of all unknowing
feeling now, its way into all life...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...