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.