The Sphinx

The silence of all stone
that dwells beyond the ages
of our human memory
ascends now to amend
the many variations of dichotomy
and thus disharmony.

It does not know
which sky it reaches into
or how young and old the air might be
nor even that this day, today
is no more that than just
tomorrow’s yesterday.

Ambiguous - the themes
of all machinery
and theories born of mind alone
buzzing through an atmosphere
of this desert’s great intensity
yet still, it dreams -
this ancient yet symbolic
vision of what used to be
still standing, stark and beautiful
within the tomes of history unfolding.

Tentative, a tone of voice
impressed through wires
of steel that run so far askance
from every dance we ever danced
when close at hand -
and yet from where this touch
of utterance in silent mystery?

Significant, the voice
that speaks of truth
and more, a touch,
that feels its way
through everything we are
gently tracing without words
its love into our very particles.

They rule from up above
and too, from down below
these symbols of humanity’s antiquity
deep within the keep of ancient seals
breaking open once again
into a feeling so divine
we cannot help but dance again
in this one moment
out of time in us...

? Michaelette ?

4/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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