Elements abstracted
from the math of things
belong to the earth.
The trees speak with reason
absent any formal thought.
Your soul's impulse
embraces your Divine.
She sees the order
in the wordless stories
of the field,
where flowers
kissed by bees
reflect the joy
of the mating dance.
Standing in the glitter
of the moonwake,
elemental dancers
wander through
a secret existence.
Their repeated spiraling
pulses out a requiem
that instructs us
in the cycle of logic
found in nature.
The science of the form
is reflected in the arc of the sun
across the sky.
Trees whisper secrets
in their leaves.
Softness left in droplets
blankets the unrelenting noise.
There is no such thing
as one-way liberation
when you drop inside and
surrender to reality.
If you enjoyed this poem, have a look at my book, We Swallow Light. It’s an exploration of events in a past life and a refreshing take on overcoming pain and the joy of finding love.