a kingdom calling out, wooing
our wonder to gather in waves
of bliss and belonging that lull
the tristened heart to heal.
There is a realm entire of thorns :
Nor fruit nor flower blushes blood
But prick and pain and desolation.
Then numb, and thrashed,
the thorn-torn soul retreats
and wonders why of incarnation.
Breath has been broken,
a branch bough-breached to dust and damned dry.
Where wonders why, why wonders soul
in weeping, dry, the wetness faded :
fades the frail cartilage and callous to atrophy.
There are armies dessicate
juice-drained flesh to dry in zombie-walking,
why-wishing in the dry, whyless woe-lands,
and some so cynic jaded to blaspheme
that gnawed need as this the norm.
No.
There is a land, The Lovely,
flow, and float ; glide, and glow,
where welcome back the winds our breath
in breathe and blessed freshened grace,
to give our soul its celebrate heirlooms.
In love, in love, that lovely trance
that takes you to that land of lovely,
dream the doorway, trance the entrance :
O wild words, woven on a poet's lipped loom, take
Me there, me there, where dance is driven
ever on by flow and fire's
surge most warm that blooms the soul's flesh!
Refresh, refresh, and breathe most dear.
Here is the hollow space within the world's cavern
Whence world takes its wielding breath, to birth
the strong-pound stream rolling flow of full life.
Heaven halved us, envoys made
to make the middle journey, joy
in shuttling, courier, there now here.
We are the waters' carrier,
the well-seeking boys and girls weal to world, from dreams.
These chiseled zeros of breath,
caressed nothings, words
from world to world are ways :
well-reaching, shaped sounds seek
and find that flow to Lovely's land.
What else but lips
that kiss, and tongue that slips
o'er lips of lovers has the power
breath to shape in sensuous grope, to list
and lure the soul in hopeful spell, to bliss?
But this? These lips? These lips.
These slips of sound in rapid rhythm
roaring river toss the soul to this, this bliss.
The Land of Lovely, lovely land
where dance and dream queen-crown Love in worship's pageants.
Bow and bowing, down
to beauty's bosom blessed Lady, Love.
There to Sabbat, soul tends : heal.
The wholeness of spirit's caressed flesh.
Embrace of breath, in the whole souls' congress
coming forward, line by line, to bless,
in bow and kiss, the queen, when She
soul-song of Lovely Land long song shares,
and sway,
sway the souls in waving throng
thigh-strong arms embrace.
This grace and boon is a birth's right written
royal and sealed on the soul's song ; when sung,
the word bewilded,
trance's charm spellbound takes us
there, The Lovely, land of grace
where half our human heart belongs
while living ; the wise live half home
alive, luck collecting, world to weal
with wish of someday soul
homeland wholed, beyond this life,
to live in ever, land : The Lovely.
