Wednesday, April 27, 2011


Beneath the horizon
a low-lying vision
stretches before me.
This is where I live.

Here I am connected
rooted in the lost arts
rooted in the mystery
that lies
just below view.

Wisdom soaks in
like a blanket
in the rain
releasing mist
when the sun
bares all.

Roots find their way down
as buds their the sky.
Every blossom
is my blossom.

Come dawn
I will rise again
and not feel
so alone.


orea said...

I love the gentle pressure in this poem~the undeniable promise of blossom~the image shares the mysterious truth of alchemy below the surface of our awareness~beauty-full~!

Suzi Smith said...


Sherrie Lovler said...

Thanks, Orea. Nice reading my image coming back to me in words.

Thanks, Suzi.

Matt D said...

The lost arts ... we've much to reclaim.

Beautifully expressed in words and image! :)