What on Earth, are Words Worth?

He is.

Clouded. Lonely. A Wanderer.

Lost in Vast Wonder.

Infinite Love seems a fickle Host.

Dancing wild, wet and naked,

Universe, nuder under moonlight.

She Is. Constant. Change.

Sacred. Natural. Mother. Untainted.

Shimmering cosmic coils cascade spirals,

Encircle stones standing still, rough and fair,

Hewn, coarse, roughly polished square,

She waves silvered waxen daffodils,

At humble bees and birds asleep.

 

Love watches over, parts parasitic.

Wafts perfumed notes in wild garlic,

To deter a vampire beast,

Eating Oestrus Eggs,

Souled in plastic,

In Flora's place,

Prophylactic.

 

Anon, he holds on, amid a giving garden,

Stares dark, at space, cross and burdened,

Looks to heal a wordless hunger, a deeper loss,

Blossom flows and grows not through sour seed.

In the face of the deep, he drifts into sleep.

 

Dreaming he, she, will arise to be. In paradise, in peace,

In the dawning light, with no flickering fading candle,

Being wound to the whole, held safe in Harmony.

Not wed to wound in Acrimony. For ever and ever.

 

Now in. A new-born, reborn child.

Freed of sin, timeless, true and fearless.

The Life. The Truth. The Lovers.

Flow and Float Together Within.

Eternal.

Resurrected.