A constellation of emotion.
Drawing on memories’ insular portents.
Sequestered portions of insight amble into ambit.
A porpoise-full consideration slowly rolls over to reposition.
The shell of the soul cracked like the muscle-memory of a chiropractor reaching a book on the shelf.
Tufts of hair tilt over like a crowning moment to remembrance’s endear.
A gentle repair of imperatives to liberty’s steer.
Enhanced, a side-glance into nowhere’s comforting glare.
Sounds surrounding pause & poise making melodies as if time was talking, a listener to hear.
The ground, in acceptance of passage to histories communing in foreswear.
A reflection of ennui. Where a birds-eye view chirps to chip in.
A universe of being. As if the vowels of experience were singing.
The temple brows to a temperance of focus.
A rhythm curves the cursory exhalation to simper subdue.
Imbued a tune, a hallowed heart fleets a-glance a fire-lamp. The dancing flame opportune to offer attune.
Somewhere, the world slows down. A slow dawn as if a repetition’s chant perchance. A resounding inflection awakens alit in in the eyes.
A mantra making conversation in a mirroring mind reminds.
Epiphanies laugh when words wayward-s appear. And wearing a smile as welcoming the self to share.
The Ud-sa major in the sky crooning the musical Sa major. Ancient languages swoon over a high note to the Ursa’s minor connote.
The phonetics swing in twine, saith time. And in the recounting sway in recognition’s encountering mention.
The Moon pips a subjective dimension. A spectrum to awareness in extension.
The wind chimes when shine resounds. Into. Sublime.
A coat of quotes and passing poetry
"
“O! hast thou seen a vernal Morning bright.
Gem every bank and trembling leaf with dews,
Tinging the green fields with her amber hues,
Changing the leaden streams to lines of light?
Then seen dull Clouds, that shed untimely night,
Roll envious on, and every ray suffuse,
Till the chill'd Scenes their early beauty lose,
And faint, and colourless, no more invite.
The glistening gaze of Joy?—'Twas emblem just,
Of my youth's sun, on which deep shadows fell,
Spread from the PALL OF FRIENDS; and Grief's loud gust,
Resistless, oft wou'd wasted tears compel:
Yet let me hope, that on my darken'd days,
Science, and pious Trust, may shed pervading rays.” - Horace.
"Vernal morning | The poetry of Horace