Within a sinking desperation.
Chancing on a joyous celebration.
Like fire ignited from a spark,
the soul is burgeoning.
Joining other billows in the air.
Remembering the kind of love that cared.
Beyond the fear of truth.
Past every courting of deception.
Time honored nothing much at all these days.
Yet there, within the autumn branches
swaying in the wind, the dying leaves
would speak of truth unveiled.
Lighting up the secret spaces.
Wild colors drifting gracefully.
Dancing on the arch and swing of stars.
Dark the moon, still lost in memory.
Deep, the labyrinthine mystery.
Almost desperate, spirits gathering.
Singing of the need to be
lost and found within a seed
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .