A story of time
One day, she woke up with an aching time.
A chilly drizzle of steps run, was coming through a tear, open in memory, and spattering her brow, and her fingers, fumbling with words, returned a viscous, feverish silence, in throbbing shadows, to her light.
A whole rush of moments, in splinters of stained-glass, littered the space with colours, and the air burned with voices, lightning bolts, and faces like shivers, dissecting, in blood deliriously opposed to cold, her breath.
She stood up to face the blow of healing, as if she were bringing a thundering stampede to a halt, through seizing the alpha by the horns and catching its movement fully upon her chest, denuded.
And she coiled time, irremediable, deep inside her body, which she closed around it, like an embrace of dying in a dance and being born in a song.
Yet, she unfolded her soul upon the wings of eyelids, and the flight became the clouds beginning to disperse upon the day, when the core of pain, gently lulled by a strophe instilled with love, drop by drop, numbed the tears in her body and parted her lips to welcome the return of a dream, whole, and restored to its nature, which was warm, sound, and free.
And, of the story of time, this was the first verse released. The rest of it… is a poem, by now.
-- © 2008 by Alexandra* ~ OneLight*® - (Painting © by Daniel Martínez Fuentes)
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Regis
A stunning composition - prose, poetry, doesn't matter: darn fine reading!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
hugs
Fee
A mystic meditation burn perhaps on some emotional penumbra.
Georg