Keep Flowing
Between the closing dusk of sleep
and my descended night
I catch a spotlit vision
of living water glistening:
at times a pond of koi,
sometimes an overflowing cup,
a fountain, river or a flooded garden where I stand
gazing at my crystal feet
amongst the flowers.
Such visions come from down within the folds
and fissures of my brain,
dripping, trickling, rushing, and no one knows
the quantity of waters stored there, fed
by even deeper streams.
While deep within the ocean grows your brain
where nematodes and blind fish
swim and search among voluted fissures,
where bubbles from deep cracks and crevices
deeper than the highest Himalayas,
hotter than the icy pinnacles,
ooze lava, spew amazing rocks,
seethe and re-form the ocean floor,
shaking the earth crust, changing the world shape,
fill explorers who descend, who dare,
or those who wait above in gardens
with delight that only music, only voices penetrating
convoluted brains
can reach and touch and teach.
To me you are the ocean, constant, powerful and salty,
waves pulled by an unknown planet,
up and down the shore, in and out of billows,
smashing, crashing, and accepting
streams and rivers flowing in while
nothing flows out, only the fish, only the birds,
only the words, but only the sun
warms and evaporates the restless waters, gathering to herself
billowy clouds and moisture
that fall again
into my floods and pools and fountains
from the highest Himalayas
into the rivers
that return to you,
to you.
LRH
8.31.06
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poem by Linda Hepner
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