Stile
I am building for you, my heart, a resting place
Melting snow white linen off a bed of crocuses,
the first flower of my Spring.
I am dusting windows while singing my walls wide open
to make a room for you in this sunlit hermitage.
The shutters are already tied back for the summer months ahead when sage breezes will kiss your body with night’s sweet reprieve.
Sleep well, for all the air is conspiring in pollen grains a heavy harvest and fat winters.
I am busy breathing silence so your story may drift through me,
Peacefully,
back to your dream’s origin,
We can just listen as the revelation unfolds,
And abandon tomorrow in the deep navel of eternity.
Where
All is well
And forever will be.
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