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“as we passed her she did wilt
which caused in us sense of guilt
since our stance perhaps did cause
to put her heart’s joy on pause
 
though we’re gentle, not hostile
we diminished her soul’s smile
since our aura as she viewed
scent of love did not exude” ~ Unseeking Seeker

As the blues of summer 
gently kiss the silk-threaded
        seams of her soul, 
she shivers at the breeze ~ so distant, 
lacking the love beats of celestial bliss... 

She ~ the iridescence 
of a Swarovski swan,
glazed in amethyst aurora ~ 
a silent seer, fragile feeler
of the unseen that drifts
within the fickle iris
  of the phasing Luna.

Her soul speaks:
I am her ~ the one who wilts
emotionally but never spiritually
from the wistful touch of
  searing stillness;
for intention, detached
  from intuition,
compassion devoid
of authentic vibration,
like raining ashes and hailstones,
a smile without warmth,
a gesture that glides,
shall stain the skin of glass ripples,
engrossed in emeralds of empathy,
perceiving the piercing threads
within pensive twilight ~
frequency of flames flickering
from the fairy-dusted wand
of the empyrean,
amidst the violet veil that hides
the blinding darkness within
              fields of energy.

In the presence of kind fate,
tying the twinkling
embers of constellations
within the inner conscience,
infused with guilty sparks
      shooting on impulse
across neon neurons,
like internal dialogues
with words ~ unwritten,
      with thoughts ~ unsaid,
there, I hear your
unspoken apologies,
and I forgive the scentless
roses blooming in the backyard
of your subconscious states,
oblivious to the
significance of zen
  and the harmonious ringing
of complete composure…

And in quiescence,
when the cold contours within
the cracked chambers of your heart
  ricochet in refrains,
pushing me toward an aching abyss ~
I mirror the silver of frostbitten stars,
lacking a sincere pulse
  of light and love,
       gentle, not hostile,
                placing a rune
that drained the
               enlightened chakras…

O sanctified star-clover
fill my soul with mercy,
       incense the air with
musks of clemency,
         let love be the music
emanating meticulous melodies
     to illuminate the weathered,
to soften the sorrow,
         to lift the heaviness 
                from hanging horizons
in mindfulness with devotions,
an awakening to
a magnetic meadow of magic,
words woven
with earnestness and realness…

I forgive the innocent shift of energy
       flowing through silence 
like rivers of dried roses ~ 
            for even the moon had to 
                              learn how to rise....
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