Raise your palms
to the Lords
of East and West,
and entreat them,
“What is the secret
that passes with the sun?”
Then race,
then run,
so far North –
be embraced
by the ice and snow
crown, Northern Lady,
Aurora, proudly
bless and blow
your gentle wish
against my throat,
where the words catch
between the nape
and a choke.
If she chills you
to the bones,
find the road,
Southward, go
toward the warmth
of the glow,
so close to the middle,
where verdancy,
nay, urgency,
pushes from the black earth
and ‘ever grows.
Palm fronds, equatorial,
wave, an imitation
of that bluest flow.
Where do you go?
If you stand in the center,
you can watch the world turn,
but you’ll only be spinning
on a tiny patch of earth.
Follow the sun
and find his secret…
therein, find your worth.
©️ Obol, 2020.
Wow! This is incredible. I read it through slowly because there’s so much there. This is deep. And magical. And I like that.
Thanks, tara! I worried it into a song. Still tinkering with it, but I like it a lot. More to come
Oh how exciting. Sometimes your others come floating through my mind. Excellent work. Truly exceptional.
For the song version, I added the following line:
“My hope grows like ancient trees, toes in the sand, ten miles deep, with roots forever reaching for a taste of the salty sea.”
Oh that’s perfect