This new silence sitting in our thoughts

This new silence sitting in our thoughts

gazing at its own wandering
slides like clouds from
one sky to another

Words washed away of its weight
spreads like snowflakes in the lamp lights of our listening.

Our eyes full
of what is full in our hearts.

To write to you is not easy.....

.....Words 

engorged with desires

Like nipples

Hardens 

slips into a playful stream of verbs

Between the thighs of my silence...running 

Moan my Sufferings , since you're so determined to make me suffer....

This breath 

warm

between my lips

sad

because i cannot speak.

This  wind howling 

how they bite

how they blow me into pièces.

i eat.

I drink 

from the stones and rivers 

of  sorrow

my handcuffed feelings losing their voices in your meadows.

Tiptoeing 

 my eyes understood 

watching a few 

trees....

the solitude of the half lit winters.

Waiting for the sun

waiting for you

if you might come....

if you might come

i write , 

but to write to you is not easy my Darling,

 Words sink like Titanic

in your cold waters.

No matter how i speak

your anwers deeply haunt a silence to which i cannot accede.

This amazing dress of Solitude ,
fibres woven by Silence
You wear it

You wear it so joyfully. 

Untying the stars and the white of snow, 
reprinting it in frost and  fog
 it covers you like your second skin.

Your unhurried glances understands 
that dying
is only awakening.

And there in the heart of  the  forest - the rain is only a memory 
of what you've been.

The songs you heard when 
you were an Ear....Now ,
You're its journey.

The symphonies
of such  solitudes 
where else could they bring you
but to
the thresholds of your own self.

Darkness became
 a delicious ache







as i bend to kiss you.

A desire
too strong for fear to hold back


i let myself fall into my own dying.







And even if you said nothing
i could feel a forest whispering
rivulets trickling from pink peonies.


Fragrant - with your wetness on my fingers.

i inhaled , i drank your feelings 
liquid so sweet on my tongue.

The music of your moaning
the breath stirred there 
the body held the soul.

Tenderly,
i swallowed the warm rivers
Sweetly my wakefulness drifted.

At this time of the year
it is'nt like the days when Spring delightfully shows its way through .

 Nothing is like the splendid sun in the meadows
As the morning fog 
gradually disappears, 


for the light through the branches of trees,   touch
 the leafless waiting
into florescent explosions...

Mirabelle flowers -   white poems awakening  in between
The space of the human eyes and the spaces of the sky
binding 
the quietness of the body and purity the of the Soul together.


Perplexities - taken to an illumination where word resonate more like your silence.

The Silences I may know 
Silences - not from loss of words but from witnessing the efflux of life surging the 
with no remarkable differences between' what is ' in the 'instant' and ' Eternity '.



Times fatalities works through the petals of my bone marrows,...... marking everything intensely. 
so 
all that i see .....
is only intense.


In my breath and in my blood i continue
digesting the gifts of the immense blue sky.



Bountiful graces  assimilated 
The temples filled within us
with  pure joys of having  that which 
is just no further than where we are
Within the garden of our own beings.

 its september!...
a fresh touch of feelings hugs our hearts
shaped.
Through the hands of sunlight

whatever you could call God 
takes you by your shoulders
to show you the coming and going of Beauty. 

On a cliff, a tree stands  besides a poem .

a poem  in blossom,  spreading on your skies.

i walk from the poem's morning to evening

i step across the river to

the pathways

leading me to the poem's valley.

And on a boulder  i climb to listen to the poem's silence.

 i witness

the  flower speaks to  pebbles.

And on the wind floats a feather .

and i go with these poems where they are going.

And at the end of today i rejoice

i weave from my night born longings

splenderous spectrums of love.

But my Love poem -- will always be You.