Night of day, come play your
songs in me.
Darkness of all light now sheltering my soul
in this most natural revival of the whole.
(You were always so upset
that one feeling jolted you back to
awareness of yourself – that feeling of
my closing, no matter how gently I closed.)
Thunder rumbles distantly,
and yet I feel
a sense of peace, within a calming interlude
of nature muting noise into a tone.
(You so often feel discomfort
you find such silence - ascending into you;
and yet I see a greater meaning, starting
to break through.)
How gently now, the separation
raindrop, reblending then into the earth,
regaining form in puddles that reflect again
the lightening clouds that gave them birth.
(Is it that you somehow
sense that thunder
is no more than angry innocence, at last
expressing all the vastness of our need
Lightning flashes, born within
darkness of the thunderous clouds,
enlightening everything, just before
another rush of rain, now breaking
free, decides to tumble down in yet
(I know you’ve been here
wondered, just as I, what we might do
to make this harmony more real...)
Yet there is no sorrow in
of the clouds, rather just release and
letting go; no pain resides in thundering
skies where variations clash; nor can
any sense of death impinge on this pure
night of day; for here we play it true,
or not at all.
(Lucidly, we dream ourselves
into awareness; where what seems bare
is filled to overflowing with it all. Our path
is ever of an opening out of all enclosures,
while still allowing form to be itself, in its
free-forming variations of all life.)
Clear, the mind that finds its way back home...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .