These Moments of Innocence {La Terza Versione}
This morning I awoke from a dream,
to the quintessence of pure innocence,
thru' my sunsoaked bedroom window.
Watched the sweet, soft landing
of a doves imposition,
upon a newborne branch
of the leanest tree,
lending shade, and confidence
to the infant limb,
by its presence, alone...
and nothing more;
discognizant to the virtue
of its mere presence,
...and nothing more -
just this...... and nothing more.
And it washed my face with smile
to see such divinity before my eye's.
Verdant and promising,
yet bleeding for nurture,
the infant limb embraced
the presence of the dove -
..........................cautiously.
And in time, so adopted
an unconscious bond of trust,
an expectence, if you will,
to all the young branch
grew accustomed to.
All this... and nothing more.
Moments such as these
are as close as perfection comes...
no closer be....just this,
and nothing more.
And ostensibly discognizant,
to the command of its presence
the white bird lays still,
ruminating about nothing
of significance, or consequence,
but mere expectence of the limb
for same reciprocal.
Still its wing's flutter spritely,
spinning fresh breeze upon itself
with an ambience of cherubic peace,
utopic peace.....in solitude.
Just this...and nothing more.
A trinity of doves carry overhead...
a family, a flock of natures' gold -
all this....and nothing more.
And within these fertile moments
innocence conceives;
innocence, incarnate,
life's sweetest gift.
And all too soon, life moves forward
as time knows how to do no different.
And with it, the child limb becomes -
a branch that will shoulder many years
of shelter, beauty....and so much more
providing confidence,
to its own offspring growth
upon the natural seed of nature.
And perhaps for a moment
the rememberance of a dove,
who has since moved forward in time -
to perch on other verdant trees
with newfound landings.
Yet, always discognizant
to its' virtuous presence,
the dove....would never know -
the gift it brought to an infant limb
so many ''moments'' ago.
All this, and so much more;
Innocence....a utopic dimension of being
that has no equal... to so much more.
These moments of absolute Innocence, I saw...
this morning....upon waking from a dream.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.