Poetry

Rainbow Moon

14:
a purple thistle
sways in the heat
a tide of granite
inundates the valley
wheels and wheels of stone
encircle your musing body
a small fire
eats your dark thoughts
jingle of bells
cows and bulls
trespass your prayers
your smile
cracks the stern boulder
clouds open
there is radiance
in a mere glance
your hands
carry warm ashes
of dark thoughts
buried
with the gentleness
of slow gestures
everything about you glows,
eyes older than skin
exquisite, twigs
in the tiny
stone circle
speak a language
i dare not ask

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