Sizzling heartbeat, the step,
walking inside twilight forgiveness
I fear not a velvet grace
that keeps on getting deeper
no yearning can fly now
no voice can be heard
I am still,
as underwater dreams grow wings,
they can't speak yet,
their songs ring louder with each puddle
each fall, a resurrection
each mirror thousandfold
passionate love.
***
A marsh of feelings,
young and old,
meets fingertips,
the touch
sends lightning through my veins
I sense, I know
and yet
I'm only one still standing,
a ghost, a bird,
a moonbeam.
***
My friends used to hold hands,
tell me
the way to reach the moon
was to pour spirit in each cup
offer the wind a sip,
a dream of grass blades
in the dusk,
swaying with tune
unheard,
known all along.
***
Gate opens, and my steps
ring once again
on pavement with echo of love,
doorbell my song,
answer the call,
visited by a spring
that never ceased to bloom.
***
I can grow sunflowers on mountains
with you
I can be anything
and thwart
flight of heart longing to surrender
dream of spell cast
at midnight rose,
dark greeting.
I can turn time away
from you and me.
***
© 2022 Amy Christie
About the Creator
Amy Christie
Passionate writer and journalist, striving to create meaningful connections.
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
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