Another Way

A fire burns, so deep inside - rising,
falling, dancing through the staid and
sorry safety that we choose to make
our lives into. Yet still the fire burns,
and wind enhances limbs of trees to fuel
the multitude of offerings so long denied.

And so the gods and goddesses begin
to stir again; within one touch of fire
flaming high. Melting, melding, seeking
every offering to be the one that proves
itself as true. For even deity has wandered
through the void that minds of man created,
and found it only lacking love of life.

High and oh, so very dry, the intellect
abides in loneliness; wasting energy
on figuring that never brings a burst
of living creativity to anything at all.
Shall we teach our children then, to
bow down to this hypocrisy that
never came to bend or sway within
a slow and sensuous feel of wind?

Peeling at our clothing, while the tides
of nature flow so naturally; easy as
as a breeze that whips those reams of paper
into no more than a white spot disappearing
in the endless blue of skies that gleam in
this anticipation; just as this verity
of heat begins to melt the walls of
icy cold intelligence again.

The best of them have fallen thus, into
the arms of love that feels its way
forever into life. And thus, the gods and
goddesses redeem themselves again; for
passion never comes to know an end.
Rather, it is built upon the meeting of
extremes, where opposition brings us
round, full circle, to the truth of all
we came to life to be.

We give and then we must receive, else
every cycle will remain in bits and pieces,
savaged by the intellect of gross division.
What savior ever changed the bliss of this
unending kiss of life itself? What martyr
ever felt such ecstasy, as life itself
screamed out for more tham an
impoverishment within those blind beliefs?
What sadist or what masochist
ever dared to reach and touch
the feel that this love always
brings about in us?

The answers lie beyond the paradox of
pain or pleasure; where every loving touch
becomes a treasure beyond price. And so
the many numbers come back to
a zero balance; succumbing
yet again within these winds that feed
the feeling of the fuel burning
endlessly within each beat of heart.

Numbly then, the villains must descend
from golden thrones; just as the sun begins
to turn the indigo into another shade of
glorious blue, that seeps into our veins
in each and every shade of roses
blending into newborn dreams
of every love's beginning.
And so one loving touch lives on
into infinity; where dreams are spun
and heartbeats won again into forever.

And forever is breathed in, in this one
wind of life divine. Supernal are
the messages of each and every whisper.
For the heart of our existence lives and
breathes this atmosphere of mother earth.
And she has chosen true in her vast wisdom -
within the never-ending cycles of her changing
hues of ever-living color. Her scent is so
remarkable, we never can forget, no matter
any stress or strain still being marketed.
And nurturance is only one of never-ending
multitudes of her propensity and prophecy;
alive and well and flowing through
the blind of all infinity - for every touch
of hers becomes this creativity
of every life we choose in truth.

For she has come to feel it all. The heat, the
cold; the rise, the fall - the hope within the
hopeless moments all the millions of her
children ever came to live or die within.
And still she travels on in her galactic
mystery; conceiving yet another way
to love...

? Michaelette ?

8/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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