It is a smile that pauses, lingers,
An arrow that pierces through,
Palms pressed with gentled fire,
A burst of mingled hue.
It is light that springs from nothingness,
And grows to everything
It’s knots that slowly tangle
In gentled tethering.
It’s purposeful and poignant prose
That quilts your every thought
It’s backing down and giving ground . . .
Compromises wrought.
It’s narrowness and openness, solemnity and joy,
Purity, hilarity and promises that cloy.
Innocence and quietness . . a diamonds' lurid gloss,
Luxuriance and latitude and lassitude and loss . .
Time to modify this, Worddancer, even though there is still much truth in it.
An arrow that pierces through,
Palms pressed with gentled fire,
A burst of mingled hue.
It is light that springs from nothingness,
And grows to everything
It’s knots that slowly tangle
In gentled tethering.
It’s purposeful and poignant prose
That quilts your every thought
It’s backing down and giving ground . . .
Compromises wrought.
It’s narrowness and openness, solemnity and joy,
Purity, hilarity and promises that cloy.
Innocence and quietness . . a diamonds' lurid gloss,
Luxuriance and latitude and lassitude and loss . .
Time to modify this, Worddancer, even though there is still much truth in it.
