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Nomad
In your hands, a potter's wheel,
shaping substance into form
the physics of involution:
broken shards along a
caravan longing a
sweet alchemy, precise
fingers on snow
In the desert bloom.
I weep your nearness.
You have made a fine vessel.
Fill me with sunrise.
Editing stage:
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Comments
weirdelf
Wed, 2013-02-27 07:29
Lovely
and 17 months no comment!
Your words are sublime.
cheers,
Jess
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Kailashana2
Wed, 2013-02-27 10:40
Dearest Jess, is it a
Dearest Jess, is it a coincidence that I visit Neopoet an hour after you resurrected a poem from 17 months ago?
I suppose, since I write enough mediocre poems, a once-in-awhile *sublime* poem is a good thing, eh?
Much love, and always be hungry & thirsty enough to write poems.
~A.
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