In space, in time, I sit thousands of feet above the sea. I can see everything, all things are passing through me, I can feel it all. In this moment I weep for the joy of everything, while yet I am weeping in sadness, a grief for all things. I notice the tiny wren’s nest, the perfection of a dewdrop, the great leviathan in the deep, a robber fly in the damp corner. That child’s face who is its heart, a mixture of feelings finding a way. The noise of humanity, louder than any nest of squawking hatchlings celebrating life and the urgency of desire. Here I lightly sit, taking it all in, right in that tender moment between the inward and outward breath. It is unconscious, beyond the mind. There is no soaring, no looking down, this is embodied, the journey deeply within.
At dVerse Laura is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to write a tercet, choosing from a list either a compound word, or three words connected. I chose Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
At dVerse Lillian is hosting Open Link Night – the night we choose a poem to post. Lillian has dedicated this OLN to the late Glen Butkus a friend of many at dVerse. If you knew, or even if you didn’t know Glen, there is more information about his work, some examples of his poetry and a link to his work when you follow the link below.
At dVerse Punam is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about friendship I’m using a line from the poem Tug O’ War by Shel Silverstein as the opening line as that spoke to me.
“There can be no vulnerability without risk ….” M. Scott Peck
Nothing By Half
I like to play with moon, we have such fun together whatever we choose to do. Tonight she called out by half, indeed she cradled me, such was her shape for loving. She had that look, which is to say, that despite appearances, nothing was by half with her. She appeared velvety, like a piece of cacao in a Viennese cafe, waiting to be softly grated into my cup. And I sighed long in anticipation of the pleasure.
It takes a certain vulnerability to drink down this draught of love so rich in texture, it seems to coat the tongue with memory and warm the heart to an opening unanticipated. To feel that warmth, that connection, is beyond any words. All at once, nothing can be said and yet everything can be said. Moon just smiled and I melted in her froth tonight. I am mezza to her half.
parallax 