Rising from Ashes

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!

How sublime!


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