I have dissipated into air.
I smile at sun and shine on dewy blossoms.
I look into horizons of anguish and false smiles of survival
and relish spring breezes – the scent of voodoo rose.
It’s been a long rendez-vu in verdant pastures
of blissful banishment and enchanting streams
of weeping willows’ song.
Ah, swaying again in droplets of vapor
remembering the muse’s words:
“Sweet Angel, revel in the words,
Wander and sow your seeds of ecstasy.”
Had I forgotten?
Had I hardened into gross mass?
Had I frozen into an austere demeanor
producing slavish insolence?
The seasons, that’s it!
Yes, I remember the movement of stars,
and tides and moon’s chanting of rhythms and vibrations!