On the Bosom of a Soothing Wind
n she drew me into
the deepest layer of
earth,the molten lava
hallowing me but
not touching.
i was being
a lustful
saint
the empty poles in the open sky
smiles at the closed force of
an unborn tomorrow
the scent of the unblown flower
engulfs the mouth, delicate
drops of the magic
potion
drips through the divine mouth
dehydrated devoid of strength
in a trans delirium
we
non exist float on thin air
the yellow slant of the squinting sun
silently swallowed the remnants
of the night
red roads
ascended to sky n bliss spilled
down the stream
sweet mountain nymphs danced
our soul soared to the realms
unknown liberated from
the bondage of fear
like a
small fly
on the bosom of the soothing wind
Copyright © Francis Osho | Year Posted 2015
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