Standing within the cathedral of scarlets and ambers
Under the boreal forest canopy of ten thousand
Hiss whispered promises of a sun that is destined to sleep
beyond the Lands of the Anemoi . . .
the Lands of Boreas
winged god of the north wind
Here where it is so misty and silent
She is standing here in this misty twilight . . .
Somehow totally hypnotized
As though she’s about to speak
No . . .
As though the Goddess of the Life-Force
is about to speak through her
and i pause in mute wonderment
Awaiting her pronouncement . . .
a transcendent understanding
There are no words . . . that can even touch this
And all my meager skills as a poet
are not worthy of this moment
Silence is the proper prayer
And a single sizzling ray penetrates
Illuminates the resonate spaces here . . .
And through some trick of clouds moving above the World
It tracks her
And . . . and
. . . and her Angelic self becomes visible
to any and all that gaze upon her
No really look
See her hair . . .
Oh Dear God – Her skin
i can not bear to look at her eyes
But i can’t look away . . .
Every hair on my body is standing on end
The thunder of my heartbeat fills the forest
And . . .
As quickly as it came
the moment departs
Releasing my heart . . .
One moment longer . . .
Had it lasted one moment longer . . .
My soul would have come pouring out my mouth