morning had a taste of soul left over
a buzzing of the felt - sense singing
and my laugh runs the trills of a blue horizon
left to my own contempt
the day moves connected to the wind
on frail bird's feet,
i arrive with intent
played or observed.
played or observed.
in shades of love
i may or may not return
finally only sounding om
with only a dialog of lions and falling water,
shakti pulls me up
writing, planting, sewing or cooking
flame and fire
return me to the night.
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