Play. PLay. Wisdom come. Tears as purifiers.

Tell me of deep Origins
of eternal things.*

I let you smell my scars,
let you adorn them with golden water lilies.
I’m absurd, a seedling
on thunderous waters.
Playing with the storm,
I lose my fright,
I can see the cracks in the waves,
small specks of suffering.

Suffering.
A peculiar form.
Intricate form,
hard to penetrate.
Beautiful.
Green.
Black.
Red.
Back to Orange.

From the knowers eyes
spills the disciplined
hymn,
tears as purifiers.

* The opening two lines are from the book Kalevala.

~ by Aquatic Poetry on August 20, 2012.

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