Endless Symbols

Flickering candles dance into a whispering wind.
Unheard music speaks into the silence, simply
shimmering, for dusk is gently settling again,
and in the wind a scent of sweet enchantment grows;
so soft, the merest movement then sets in,
as stardust flies from every moonlit fingertip
now tapping out a melody, that catches
and at once lets go within one glimpse
beheld of pure bright air, and captured
in a flowing memory.

Long grasses bend and blend across the plains
(scented, scenting something – oh, that sound!)
What gentle fingers play upon a harpsichord...?
The moon arises, just around a bend of the horizon;
streaming starlight held within the faintest hint
of dancing sprites upon the flowing waters
of a stream of endless being. Playfully,
the swoop and swirl and blend then merely
disappear to reappear again – for where
or when or how or what can never really
matter to a spirit of the wind;

As ever-growing twining beams of light become
one unit so surreal and so alive, another miracle
of heaven now appears upon this earth, forever blessed;
inclusive of the very air we breathe into our lives,
as rhythm quietly is heard to enter in, steadying
itself into the beat of every heart. While even
oceanic waves somehow respond – gleamingly,
they wash upon a warm and tropic shore; starlit
sprinkles dusting everything that is. Golden sands
agleam where only lovers of the night might know
the meaning of their twinkling afterglow; stretching
over, out and in, expansion that retracts itself when
held too close. Exquisitely, this dance must now again
begin wherever its last motion might have been. Here
and there and everywhere, whenever one heart opens
just to close itself in opening again.

Titanically, all eyes (once frozen in an openness)
blink the desert sands away, recognizing this
sweet mist as if the morning dew were forming
there, just there, before those mighty eyes, as
tears begin to flow into the Nile. While somewhere
at the center of a mighty pyramid, one crystal
glows, alive and pulsing, calling to its friends
both far and near, to come from past and future
into presence once again.

What spark is that...? Up there within the indigo,
barely glimpsed, yet sited in a new enchanting view;
so new and yet so ancient of composure, even as
it seems to be reborn again within an endless sense
of being. Scintillating rainbow arches now ascend
o’er land and sea, and thus around us all; surrounding
everyone within a wakefulness of dreams now coming true.

And fingers move once more as wind arises
in a harmony of hands, joined and joining
as we blend sublimely into pastel mist,
ascending and descending constantly into one
endless sphere, composing symbols of infinity that
spiral, up and down and in and out, as flames of airy
moonbeams sing themselves into our dreams again
(Just you and me, oh, love! ); so sweet it ever altars;
singing free in harmony, now breezing through
these waves of purest air - as this earth becomes
each breath we take, exhaling and inhaling
as we drift into its wakefulness.

Opening and intimately real; revealing this love
as universal healing, that simply sings its whispering
into a vastness all reality encompasses; discovering
perspectives ever beckoning to each and every
individual, to be itself just naturally, in all the splendid
majesty of life that’s lived in harmony and care –
like and yet unlike a tumbleweed that ever seeks
yet seems to roam without a purpose; and now
another flower grows where once an endless
waste was seen as real - its formation slowly
fascinating eyes that seem to come from everywhere.

Yet flowers move in their own way, uniquely bright
and dancing in each breeze or gust of wind,
as if the moonbeams gently guided starlight
into all our dreams of loving care and tender
nurturance; returning then again (yet somehow more)
in just a simple gesture of all reaching out,
through friends and neighbors ever offering
a helping hand, and just a gentle ear of understanding.

Miracle of miracles, it’s here! This dawn
of love’s awakening in form; as dancing
sprites upon a silent rippling of ponds
respond to this earth’s purity of air, breezing
in an atmosphere so clear and so serenely
motivating, it is truly found to be the grace
of all transcendence - as if a new world, being
born eternally, now consciously begins to lead
us all; and everywhere we are, we breathe
its scents and sounds more deeply into being.

Even rivers flow, so clear and bright, ‘neath moon
and stars of ever-light, into an ever growing sea
composed of earth’s simplicity of splendor;
while starlight streams and moonlit beams reveal
themselves in dreams so sweet, we know them
as the real of all reality. For the rivers know,
just as all lovers freely share themselves upon its
shore - here and there, in silent moments of pure
reverie revived; for together, we do so much more
than just survive - we bloom - we must! so that
others might begin to learn to trust again ,
this love so free and all encompassing.

Simply now and then again, we trust this energy
(oh love, my love, our love, one love) conceived of earth,
the mother of us all; gently, how her spirit guides itself
into our dreams, remembering the best of everything,
as rain becomes a gentle mist, sustaining leafy trees
in quiet forests - breathing in the beauty of it all
into these realms of our imagination, where now
it seems as if all time and space become themselves
in just an instance, a glimpse of purest beauty opening;
mystically refreshing in a cyclic reawakening,
everlastingly continuing the birth of life itself.

For truth reveals itself to each of us alone, yet
universally expands into this touch so dear and close,
as if a friend had come to take our hand; and then
another voice joins in, completing yet another scale;
creating music endlessly arising, to fall again into
another mist of gentle rain upon the simple plains
of endless being; now spherically enhanced
into a song of worldwide anticipation.

High to low, each tone expands itself – an echoing
of voices reaching in and out, so roundabout, that
we must see them sparkling in every particle of air -
pure diadems of worth, as every tiny drop of water,
touched by one unending ray of sun, becomes
a rainbow whole, above and yet below,
even as all worlds are joined somewhere,
perhaps just out of mortal sight; here,
just where a purity of water’s worth must dance
itself eternally to being, and intermesh within each
loving particle of grace - so blessedly, that golden
streams of finest silky threads compose this tapestry
of shape’s formation into ever-changing mysteries
of life’s endurance of vitality.

High, so high upon a mountain top, the highest
and the lowest notes forever come to meet all
in betweens, even as a mist begins to form of
snow and ice that comes into the paradise of light,
in an atmospheric venture of a healing artistry
revealing itself anew in wonder; as if a touch
of gossamer became the truth of angels’ wings
so softly reaching down and up they come
to rest round each of us - one and then another
and then all. Black to gray to misty green, in
streams of color opening out again; growing
somehow slowly into roses that express themselves
in tinted hues - ever beckoning a moving instant
of an essence of one moment once more capturing
a gleam of some great artist’s alteration. Clouds, oh
clouds, how great the sweet anticipation of all blue!

For scent and sight and sound abound (can you hear
the birdsong gently rising on the falling wind...?) even
as an energy, so lost and found, instills itself just in
between each breath – as if a pause could never keep
itself too still at all – and thus another voice is born
forever into being. (Is that a baby cooing, or yet
another heart in love with life that finds its way into
pure being...?) Gently, oh so lovingly, one hand approaches,
not quite touching and yet known as real, wondering
within an awe of other angels born into this miracle
of form and shape and face (oh grace, forever blossoming,
how is it that you come to be of us...?)

Sweetly now, we sleep our way of slowly dreaming
eyes awake again – and miracle of miracles,
each time I look into your eyes, the miracle
begins again. At once then, every sky becomes
an ocean’s great awakening, singing songs
of joy that weep one tear so clear, the heavens
hear it falling gently up until one dear
and precious voice begins to coo and gurgle
and expound, voicing all the pleasure of this love;
answered by an echo of a gentle strength that
supersedes this tenderness of particles
just come alive again.

As cosmically, yet of this earth, we intertwine,
within a sparkling net of jewel centered particles,
connecting evermore into a ever-changing tapestry
of loving beings. Believing, trusting, more than this:
for here within our hearts this bliss must ever be
revealed through form again; hand reaching out
to touch another hand; eyes seeking gently, contact
with another. At first, a shy yet gentle glance that seems
no more than just a glimpse repeating, eyes meeting
in a shining wondering, opening yet wider still into
a future only just beginning; and then, in friendship,
yet another glance, held now gently in an instant
that seems somehow eternally extended.

Eyes, oh eyes, how completely they can speak
themselves without a word. And yet a tremble
must begin somehow within, as love at last now
comes to meet itself forever in a feeling glory
of insanity (Love, once seemingly so far away,
that perhaps we once imagined it might be too
far away for us to reach and touch infinity). Ah,
but then a blush, a hush, a momentary weakness
of the knees; hearts tingling in this anticipation
(oh love, must I now be the first to speak...?)
as worlds open in without somehow, within
one meeting, greeting of another heart that
seeks no more than love that’s ever true.

Gesturing (a rearrangement of the hair perhaps),
or then again, a silent stance that must just see
this miracle of harmony begin again anew, as love
is born again within each instance of the purest chance
of happenstance, gently knowing one and then another
in encounters oh so real they sing, deep and high, of all
that used be arising here within these gently streaming
falls that lie in waiting in between, that now must open out.
(Heart, oh heart, I feel you beat for me.) Surety, a safety
nestling now within surrounding melodies that seek
to just repeat themselves for ever after. (Misty eyes see
more than this, my love...) Rainbows, yes, oh glory of
this grace all life bestows so naturally.

It matters not, the face or place; all meaning lies just
in between another circularity of angles, that view
all being by its heart and soul. (Can this be true...?
This love I feel for only you, my infinite, eternal love...)
I swear I see a glimpse of starlight there within your eyes,
as galaxies arise and gently drift into a space that griws
ever closer to this you of I. Surety - I know will soon
reach out to touch this flesh, in great totality of forms
that now reside eternally within our eyes. Oh love,
yet one more hand now reaches out, in a reality of opening
just from the center of all closure.

And so we live, we move, we breathe, into this dance
of life in loving motion; embers glowing heatedly to melt
into a flow of moisture streaming through (and with and to)
another realm of seeming magical dimensions; as flickering,
one candle reaches, lighting yet another candle, then another –
and oh, the graciousness of softly glowing light becomes
unending nights of stars and moonlight glowing just to guide
our way into another precious moment of pure home,
through all the deepness of the heights of indigo.

And oh! This light (these tiny wisps) will glow and grow
into the gentleness of cool yet poignant winds that speak
in whispers of a melody (just barely heard yet known
within a depth and width and breadth of purest being),
speaking with and through and of this earthen loveliness;
its beauty somehow whispering, beheld and thus beholding
to it all – this life, this form, this ground, this air - these waters
ever flowing tears into a mist of gentle morning dew.

Oh, peacefulness – just as the sky begins to come full circle -
alive within awakening again. Birdsong singing sweetly
of each song of morning meeting yet again each dewdrop
born within the night. As all indigo must gently brighten at
the break of day, exceeding every need for dark or light.
A cock may crow, and yet the sparrows know instinctively,
this dawn of ever wakening enduarnce; sun greeting every
sense of depth that mother nature yet must take into
herself again. Oh beauty! Ever spending its renewal
in a gist of all that matters. Heart, oh heart of soul impending,
waiting for this chance of every glance and love itself.

Trusting that this love will simply be revealed somehow;
as intuition guides us into realms yet unexplored and
ever yet, another chance will enter into life’s reality -
a new, astounding source of energy, so extraordinarily
appealing, we easily reveal our deepest secrets in a
silent sound of whispering, knowing only this - this love
in its quintessence of acceptance, shimmering within
a morning that is singularly kin to stardust gently drifting
in, as we synchronize all life within one living quality
of love yet undefined – growing, ever glowing now,
as in and out become a mist of one pure moment
of experiencing every up and down of gentle motion;
as stardust drifts from every moonlit ray of rhythm,
composing still another symphony - that catches
(yet at once lets go) within a stream of love that grows
intriguingly through endless symbols of infinity
composed of this, our ever-growing
feel of ecstasy...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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