I stretch out my hands
The air is spongy
Tall like syllables
In a low voice
I sustain myself
Leaning over in this space
The real present
Conquered by the hours
I wave the greener
The beginning starts here
It spins me me
Ageless dizzied joy
I have been here before
In the gardens
Where the scarlet stains my stones
Path identified with repetition
Memory stairways ever so intricately
My love . .
Wow – I love this xo
Hugs, and more hugs, to you, always
“I stretch out my hands
The air is spongy
Tall like syllables”
A great opening stanza. I am drawn to this …”tall like syllables” as it is creative, visual.
Noah, I am too. Drawn to the heights of peaks.
Thank you. .
Slowing down time to catch your breathe, is it ?
Silent love on each stairs of life.
Love and blessings over to you Mari.
Yes, o’ yes. . Thank you darling
“The beginning starts here/ it spins me” what a line and “the air is spongy/ tall like syllables”. One is musical and the other visual, and your talent still leaves me speechless
Joe, thank you so very much.
A mesmerizing walk through your heart’s garden, smelling the roses that live within, and still you blossom and grow with a sweetness like aged wine! Beautiful Mari!
Wendell, your words are piercing. Thank you