Not really poetry, more like a meditation......happened like this.,,
The Unwritten
it began
- a lone candle flame
reflecting on wet tiles
in a cold empty house…
then the heartbeat fluttering
became the wings
of a moth
softly beating
on the glass,
outside looking in…
drawn to the light…
then as drums sounded
in the far off valleys of my mind,
the wings were of the hawk,
silent messenger,
hovering above
seeing all,
withholding comment,
from the one
still on the outside… looking in…
then the heartbeat rhythm
sounded closer,
notes of a song
hung in the air like droplets
of dew in the early light,
and the wings that fluttered
became the hummingbird,
waiting with his simple message of joy,
hovering just out of reach
of a soul’s longing grasp…
the drums grew louder
and voices rose like the wind,
an ancient prayer song
to the guardians of the air,
and the wings spread
and steadied to become
the eagle…
great spirit of the sky,
in earthly guise,
bringing forth the wisdom of beyond….
wingspan like pages of a mighty book…
a story unwritten,
wordless form of that which is known
far above the mortal soil,
“there are no unhappy endings….
while there is sorrow, it is not over….
only in happiness will the story be complete…”
and in those mighty eyes,
reflected a candle whose flame grew ever brighter…
“you might turn the page,
you might write another chapter,
but the story remains unfinished…”
and then as the voices rose high in the night,
and the drumming became
the very pulse of a candlelit life,
the wings faded and gentled,
in a flutter of white feathers
a lone dove flew away…
and the candle
in a simple act of forgiveness,
went out.
