Spread out your fingers and make something new…
I can help you with that, dear one
you cannot really ever lose love
multitudes these days
bemoan how all love slyly blackens
exhorting the enthused towards temperance
the fledgling warmth towards sage sobriety
camouflaged in their mirrored dark biographies
squeaking by in the pale rays of memory
but multitudes calculate falsely, love
caution lurks shielded from enchanted truth
what lives in bold-hued new resolve
gestates genius creating new timelines
we never lose when betrayed or when broken
though the pain be more bitter than caskets
for our loving is not the gone warmth nor joy
not the ineluctable sweetness we received
not even the security of kind company
not the certainty of help when fate maims
Love is what we shone, projected outwards
It’s a fuel that grows greater when spent
what never was manifest in this wide lovely world
save for the splendid sacrifice of our Self
what we gave guileless for pure giving’s sake
newly jewels the cosmos, yes even for gods
what can never diminish only can multiply
it ‘makes straight the path of the Lord’
in the school of making your own substance, love
a thing brand new is painted on the universe
impossible to lose or ever to be mourned for
it gently unveils for you your eternity
_______RS
[ Image : this orchid close-up was so nice, I had to use it twice. ]
[ Notes : Inspired in part by watching the offbeat Susan Sarandon film “The Meddler” recently, which I recommend… The gospel quotation used near the end is from early in Mark, when the clairvoyantly viewed dove is about to descend at the river Jordan. ]
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Yes, much more than less, as there
is always something new under the
Sun. Till then I shall gestate further
upon your poem, RS.
Thy grokking is taken delight in, DR π
The silver linings are often our sanity
Not sure, maybe. I think for me I locate the health of my sanity more in my capacity to give.
Speaking of silver linings… your comments are one on this blog. π
Let me rephrase, silver linings are part of our sanity. Lol
Thank you β€οΈ
ok. with you on that. π welcome β€οΈ
What a delicate and stunning poetic treat! The sentiments and faith that ran through each line go deeper and are profound. π·I enjoy reading this very much!!
I am really happy it appealed to you so, Annabel. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. π I will visit your annals gradually over time.
Thank YOU! You write so well and deep! I guess you play music the same wayπ₯³π·
well, I try to play expressively, but it has been awhile.
Wow! This is a sensation of a poem. π―
kind thanks for your compliment π thanks so much, BBYC… oh thanks, you.
your poem is music:
MUSIC
Northern Elm in Sept of 2022
following a loud thunder
the stars begin to gather before
they set off like a storm
lightning –
the conducting hand
gives the islands the refuge
the arms of the guy who’s
still swimming outside the windshield
are the wipers scraping
the vast formed water
is an open chest –
a transparent deck of the
survived vessel – the new horizon
an imaginative look (and listen) at a thunderstorm. thanks π My son is deeply affected, imaginatively, by them whenever they happen.