Poetry
When you Kiss the lips of the dead,
Say goodbye to the departed and all that you dread,
It is now all finally
behind you.
The edge of the flame and the root that curled around you.
The earth that birthed you and raised
You into the light
Gently.
The end is only the gateway, to a new freedom in sight,
Where nothing is sought and nothing
is gained.
No strain on those that felt obsolete or less loved in the music’s quiet reframe.
The arc of the moon and the child sipping from a spoon in a galaxy of eyes straining down on you.
The breast of milk and the heart and it’s chambers opening in the sky,
The breath upon the daybreak
And world of tomorrow
The words that pass between us in
The celebration and the sighs.
Don’t borrow time
Encapsulate the moments in its golden rind,
What binds us up in the eternal twine,
The everlasting shrine
Twisting within its fates.
The fruit that burst from a flower,
And departed to rot in its final hours.
When your orchid blooms again,
And the lovers dance near the Seine
You may never be able to create this scenario
Again.
The memory gates open and remind you
Of what is grand
Beyond all your wildest dreams
The seven parting seas
The landscape with its magnificent trees
One bent knee in front of the garden
The ardent splendour that you should never pardon
The nurturing touch that illuminates
Without assuming it or removing the
Tenderness
This test to the solo witness
That befits it in its richness.