Monday, September 29, 2014
Rough Bark
Rough Bark
Yes, I know,
I have been blessed
with delight beyond measure,
descent of grace,
light playing
over eyes and lips,
surging through veins,
no real triggers,
not repetition of
sound
nor postures
nor solicitation
of celestial visions.
Yet there are times
when I long
for that which is more tangible,
the feel of rough bark
against my palm,
drifts of clouds through
the purple of twilight,
red hibiscus blooming
in a private garden.
Some say the inner joy
is a preview
of what lies beyond,
that we will all taste it
in that other realm.
They call it
bodiless love.
Dorothy Walters
September 28, 2014
