Saturday, March 22, 2008

Going home.

Long winding marble halls

light at the end of the tunnel
flowers all along

Serpent power

Like crows flying
a flock
across a gray sky

Hollow like a cave
deep resistance in the moonlight

the wind rushing through
like a flute
empty mountains

The tips brightening in the
light of the rising sun
a pale yellow covering
broken cliffs

The sound of hollow
aggravated moment
stands still in time

Thunderous flutes
bombastic like church organs
echoing and thundering
recking the peace

Swallows fly high
like butterflies tumbling on the wind

The hollow emptiness of my wounds
loudly reverberate
through the echoes of time

Aggravation tumultuous
gliding forward on the path
slowly but surely
a straight line ahead
focused goal on the gold pot

The bricks lay still awaiting
my return

A pile on the mountain top
moving in time
adjusting to now

In a circle
breaking in and out
the flowers crouch to receive me
Trees strong against the wind

Never moving but to open
the gate
One person may pass, no others
already declared
A perfect reunion
of past and present

Guarded through time
a perfect palace
surrounded by peace