Naught but a maze shall carry this
bound in cloud
through the tunnels of twigs
shall freedom range to the applause of leaves
Tangency poised on the ballet of grass
such hurricane stanzas embrace
these burnished strings of delicate harp
or sigh replete in the arms of love
And spire to crest
on foamed peaks
the howling storm on heart beat, beats
tempo to damselfly wings of gossamer threads
Be thee spoken of a breathing spell
and owe all to plumed spires
and so conjure such a vaunted splendour
lest it be a riddle spoken in a breeze
Ah but first breath
incantation weaves
let the spirit run to forever
and carry aloft the perfume of free
You sense it not
nor ponder the flight of miracles
in the commonwealth of angles
shall freedom range to the applause of leaves
sudden breathing spell
seemed to be fascinating
filled one’s own delight
06.04.16
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