Candle-Flame Reflection

That night, in the darkness,
she reflected upon the candle-flame
swaying in the black void,
dancing across the solitude of her life,
and her contemplations hurled her back
into a memory so deep, ancient, and primal,
a memory older than the forging of her flesh,
and in that orb of light and fire she saw herself,
felt herself to her deepest marrow merged with him,
united, so deeply, so unfathomably
that she could not understand
how she could ever have come to be.
Deeper she delved into the contemplation,
reviving in her flesh that fire
that harnesses all the world’s flames,
and suddenly she felt his breath upon her neck…

Free Verse # 259 (we dived in, returned no more)

She smelled of dark rain
and endless nights of longing
where the candle-flame
upon her face swayed
the rhythm of his love


With her breath
I embalm my ribs,
inside of them feel
the heaving of her soul,
an endless sea
drowning me, taking me,
there where silence is whole,
there where each wave
into my skin whispers,


As the candle-flame
Caresses the darkness
So I long to fill you


I met her on a rainy day
by the lonely shore,
and by and by
all the things I never said
flowered in her hands,
became a garden smiling
as she kissed my soul.
We then took off our clothes
and the waves welcomed us,
folding us into the sea.
We dived in,
returned no more.


his kisses in her flesh flower
exhaling the scent of love

Until we meet again…

where the river ends
becoming one with the sea
I found you, I touched you,
and the wind breezing
all around told me
that in my heart you’ll be
for all eternity,
the hidden light in every moment,
the invisible breath
in my soul weaving
all the flowers and fruits
that will ever be,
the unbound love destined
to hold us as one
through turbulence and change
until death becomes the womb
delivering me to bathe
in the light of your soul,
the fountain of your grace,
your beautiful face.

Until we meet again…

Free Verse # 258 (worshipping her)

She reminisces
and the forest leaves sigh,
on the shore of night
the waves break white.


Each poem
into her hair I weave,
a star,
a white flower,
a birdsong rippling
through the dawn sky.


I held her into me
the way the moonlight holds
the wide open plane


One stroke
at a time painting her,
an ever flowing sea.


In his every touch
worshipping her,
the dew at dawn
caressing the earth.


Like a wild wave
in my embrace
she twists and turns,
frothing as she laps
the ribs of my silence,
the shore of eternity –
from that spray – poetry.

The Lightest Touch – David Whyte

Good poetry begins with
the lightest touch,
a breeze arriving from nowhere,
a whispered healing arrival,
a word in your ear,
a settling into things,
then like a hand in the dark
it arrests your whole body,
steeling you for revelation.

In the silence that follows
a great line
you can feel Lazarus
deep inside
even the laziest, most deathly afraid
part of you,
lift up his hands and walk toward the light.

— David Whyte