The Meaning of It All

The crone - how is it that she grew to be
so very old...? I see that light within her eyes
that speaks so bold within the innocence
of that one little girl that she has always been.
You see it too - I know you do.
(Oh no, she is not looking back at me -
right now, from that - my mirror!)

And yes, it is as if she never knew
of all those changes in her face
and outer figure. To laugh and frown,
to sigh in bliss, to test the movement
of the lips and hips - these things are
really hers, right now, the same
as in the past. It matters not -
the wrinkling or shrinking of a frame.
(Oh yes, she's looking back at me -
right now, from that - my mirror.)

A tender touch, a healing rush -
soul energy cannot be maimed
or tamed into a measly good example
of a life that must be done and over with.

The Renaissance...
they knew her spirit then.
Her waist was cast in painted spells
and hues that lasted longer than the many
dues of lifetimes that they said she'd lived
within the linear spans of time and man.
Not slim or skinny - rather, singular -
unto herself, within the nourishment
that great abundance always brings.

A tender touch, a healing rush -
soul energy cannot be maimed or
tamed into a measly 'good example'
of a life that must be done and over with..
Injected - that great fear of death
that never quite concealed the life
of all eternity from her. Despised -
the wise that dare to speak their minds.

Close your eyes, and dare to see
the subtleties of all reality.
But don't stop there.
For there, so deep inside of each of us,
live worlds within worlds of dreams
that mean a coming true for us.

It matters not, the numbers that they
tag unto those linear years of time.
For she has won the greatest
grace of all. And lives through all
the many falls and re-arising themes
and schemes of manmade things
that wither in Earth's great,
unceasing winds.

And still, she loves -
this aged crone of youthful zeal -
capturing the meaning and
the rapture of it all...

? Michaelette ?

10/12/2002
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