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


[ 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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    1. 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. πŸ™‚


  1. What a delicate and stunning poetic treat! The sentiments and faith that ran through each line go deeper and are profound. 🌷I enjoy reading this very much!!


  2. your poem is 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


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