“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label hearth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hearth. Show all posts
Sunday, June 11, 2017
bed of coals
Enveiled, as usual
lifted my eyes by the chin
you invited me in
a place I know, have been
sitting by the fire-place.
And only on this hearth
have I seen illumination
made warmer
by generous raditation
over time and across space
between us-apart-of something else
that remains Otherness
between bonds like breath
we share aglow,
rekindled when struck together.
Painting by Santiago RusiƱol (1894) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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