Monday, April 29, 2013

And I Picked For Her Wildflowers...

There are many pieces to the puzzle. A mosaic is comprised of diversity. At times, anger is prominent. The writer is fueled by emotion. Emotion is raw energy--unfiltered. You can become an unstoppable river of Power, but have you mastered Trust? 
Energy can be spiteful, can be anxious, can be desperate. Do you trust your ability to let go, to succumb to Fate? There is a wise flow, unknown, and it sings. Its music has ushered Poetry into existence for centuries. W/o trust, the writer cannot write. The words will not come if there is a palpable lack of faith--and nothing can hide from this Eye. It has been viewed as dangerous to believe in extraordinary guidance. But isn't that a rather mundane perspective?

Simple bouquet
Purple, white, yellow
Wildflowers from a meadow

Natural bouquet
To a girl
from her fellow

Gathered where
the breeze is
lilac and honeysuckle

Sweet symphony of sensation
Sensorium of Nature
Hand-picked and transplanted

Become enraptured, my Sweet,
and unfurl along the light,
the lofty zones of Imagination.

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