Or listen of what my frothy rhyme could mean
Seeping deep from my chest, into your intimate distance
Embellished praises to the breast of your romance
Pale nights now sing and are no longer dim
Heart and soul dance as if of a vivid dream
Gripped gently by the soul of your embrace that lingers
A warming cloak that could survive heaving winters
Because you neither are just ghost that memories can sap
Rather a living being, warm in both nearness and gap
I have spent the past moons in naked pain
Except now, I deviate...
Leaving behind yesterday's harsh, cold rain.
(Sukhothai, 2008. Photo taken M.Boulanger)
Mark Twain smiles at how kindred pilgrims meet amongst journeys,
As a penguin swoons to have witnessed the eyes’ first kiss
To sing of what trysts unfolded, I borrow an eagle’s rhyme,
Humming vivid spices of “parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme…”
Inside the wide, soft luminescence, you crooned at me and the stars
Echoing drones that heal;
Undressing wounds to reveal such lovely scars.
Becoming places turn into places becoming
Over beds of trails and tracks and footprints of spring
Under searing suns and the shadows of crisp moons
Lustful waters, solemn spires and ruins in red dunes
All such worlds play a part in these new trails of sojourn
Navigating your fragile soul amidst places that we born
Grant that fortunes endow yet another mile’s escape
Each garden path will I traverse,
Re-tracing your heart’s wistful shape.
(Sukhothai, 2008. Photo taken M.B)
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