We need not celebrate the self,
but find that it has a wondrous dimension,
to create, and recreate- become a feeling,
a consciousness immersed in something of itself.
It is as close as we can come to touching,
when we agree to be within a feeling...
We cease to be an insular entity
when the inner creativity, builds
a fortress
comes from a bubble of air
We stand, as thought beings
woman and man but far less than
the rift between seen and unseen.
No need of any other sense to know
the wanting turns to stillness,
the ache finds its balm, and in
the depths of wonder, there is wonder still
of the reach of some dearest eyes
The spirit vines like life to sun
lifted on wings define the winds;
float upon the softness of words
that stay and fold into memory, that we
were just...this way
