Friday, July 12, 2013

a poem



My desire is pushing, lighting me through this mud.
I am the lotus.
Can I focus on anything but the light?
The light takes forms
And the forms vanish
Again and again.

The Sun is calling the Moon.
I am relieved,
Sense cannot be made.



woman, flowering  oil on panel 11x12, barbara heile

No comments:

Post a Comment