little creek, keep singing in murmuring chorus with the hum of - TopicsExpress

little creek, keep singing in murmuring chorus with the hum of this high mountain forest glade. warm summer days and these meditations bring to mind the language of love: poetry of Beloveds composed in the silent space between their parted lips, written deep in the electric trail gently traced on her milk white skin, infinite dialects, each single one spoken exclusively by two learning to speak that language together. nectar sweet in pinion-pine scented dawns (the sleepy Sun crawling languorously over rigid peaks that cast lazy shadows across the valley floor) and under the illuminated gaze of the Moon robed in her star studded veil (she whispers fill your mouth with roses and submerge in glacier melt). i am finding, in these unspoken words, the world exists sacred beyond any preconceived imagining and i can break open my precious aching heart to its ancient learnings, the language of love.

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