Meditation

You weary me with thoughtless conversation

Silence your poppy lips

I require unshattered meditation

I ingest my tea in concentrated sips

I desert you upon

The ticking wings of a clock

Restless, I must escape this world of men

I find my breathe

In the company of widowed trees

I find my breathe

The Universe exchanges thoughts with me

I pass through the sacred gates of silence

Into the temple within

It is in moments such as this

That I meet God

I am in Him and He in me

The Sun fasts and evaporates

I move my body with a sigh

The Night hastens me toward the matchbox houses

Inhabited by wooden people

Good Night.

Reviews

[fireblossom]

For me this is a perfect description of what we do. We are the fearless explorers of there. Perhaps this is a taste of future days or perhaps this is all we are destined to see. Perhaps that is why the angels weep when they read our poetry.

A very good poem.