wisteria
Misteria
your fragrance
rapt
me tight
and hurled me
far
beyond the garden’s edge
a Siren scent
awaits
beyond that gate
don’t tell
me you can’t hear the
smell
..that detours us to eden
There is a beauty
that remains
in pain
a knowing
a great knowledge
to this
The others
have
no
access
remains:
splintered prisms
reflecting newly
in shattered rearranges
patterns previously proscribed
compel implication innovation; and
frame unashamed…
pain;
Beauty
in striking secrets
to which The others have no access.
ThoughtSong Intersections 