Through You, Like The Wind

When inspiration sweeps past you,
like desert dust as it follows the wind,
and suspends itself in midair,
clouding a sunset’s iridescent lip,
what do you do, Poet, what do you do.
Despair? Or do you let your thoughts drift
far from that place in which you stand?
Do you let the moment show you
that perfect stillness moves,
and the desert’s silence purrs?
As you drink your morning coffee,
do you hold the cup in your hand
and let its texture talk to you?
Do you watch its vapor rise above the rim
and wonder where it lands?
Seize the moment, Poet,
though it may be clouds you see.
When you gaze into her eyes,
do you question what happens,
when sapphire, touches liquid brown?
When inspiration sweeps past you
like desert dust as it follows the wind,
do you want to call it back?
Then sit beneath the willow,
breathing its sound as it sways
and witness the night labor
as she births a brand new day?
And when you abandon yourself
to the peaceful arms of slumber,
and lay your head upon the pillow,
do you let the stars kiss you good night?
Then sleep, you gentle bard, dream.
For all the things you’ve touched today,
even dust, as it clouds the brilliant sun,
have touched your soul, as well.
So, breathe the scent of jasmine,
as it bathes in midnight blue,
let a moonbeam stroke your face,
and rest peacefully, Poet, rest.
Know, the muse has not forsaken you,
for it flows through you like the wind.

Carmen Ruggero .2003