Water, water everywhere;
nothing here is stable,
but the moon sickle sinks
her tendrils into our hearts.
Roots reach
below the diluvian chaos,
anchor us
to the terra firma
that is down there,
somewhere –
we sense it
in our memories,
in our dreams.
after a painting by Greg Edmondson.
From my new collection The Eden of Perhaps (Spartan Press, 2020)
Let the buds of our smile flower again
And awake the enchanting nights
That played symphony in our soul’s domain
Till the flame of my charming memory ignites
Let the past bitterness drift in the sea of oblivion
Let the heart’s anguish and pain dilute
In the raindrops from eyes, in the flowing diluvian
And the mission of love elegantly execute
Till when devils of differences to rule our minds
Be a David and slay the Goliath of solitude
Plant the rose that fragrance of love unwinds
Tread the path leading soul to valley of vicissitude
Sparkling fountain of bliss waits to immerse
Our bodies and soul deserve the fragrance
And melody that spring of life intersperse
Experience the love’s grace and elegance
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