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"The executioner's face is always well hidden" -- Bob Dylan
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Oz Poetry
by lark Saturday, Nov 21 2009, 7:53pm
international /
prose/poetry /
literature
Enveloped
how far is it possible to soar on these wings of wax and string?
yet i have (already) touched countless moons, skipped stars and traversed galaxies.
what trick is this?
i asked not for Love but Love, uninvited, ambushed and enveloped my soul; it refuses to diminish or release its hold on my Being, I am captive, swirling, intoxicated in its splendour and wonder, constantly soaring higher and higher.
i am dissolving in nebulae where suns are destroyed and re-created ready to bring forth new planets teaming with Life – for Love's, All for Love’s sake.
like some insatiable, cosmic junkie that can never get enough my spirit cries for more, more sweet ambrosia
but i fear these tattered wings may fail me.
who would have thought after so many encounters that a simple touch would send me spinning? A bloody touch for Christ’s sake; a simple hug, one among thousands of hugs in my life and i am catapulted to the outer reaches of the cosmos – forever, it seems!
YOU went straight through me
without warning,
not the slightest hint.
fair fuckin’ go!
 Mona
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