Altar At Eden

by Poet on the Piano   Apr 9, 2011


My kinship: cultivators of bays and shorelines,
abstract climbers of mountain sides near the sun line,
all speculate the un-thawing grove beneath them
that marks the need for spring's seasonal glory.
I am not barren in years, having yearned for
a healthy, esteemed generation-
my desire as been met by the hunger of love.
So I wake to harbor my strengthened dynasty
until their leaves are warmed by existing sun.
The walk toward the flower's oasis is introspective
as its intent, for one's pensive morning breath
to fondle the idea of kindred among creation.
A sweet babe dips its unpeeled lip at me,
a head woven with wet silk from light's dew.
White wings caress my fingers as I lull
them back to where they once dreamt beauty,
breathless and unsound like heaven's full aura.
Her distinct enchantment is perfume-
senses unable to be tamed by human will
sensitivity that tingles with the mind's muse
for a moment- until her chin droops
and I must feed her my heart's depth.
Among trees' protection, a refuge to rest in,
the horizon inflames the weakest rose
to remind the friendships loyal and bright
that heaven is without sin,
and there will never be a land too forbidden
to nest one's petals in, stretched and unshaken.
I watch their significance grow over days
finding purpose in waterfalls and cascades
where they wish to nourish a flight of hope-
yet they seem to not realize their own power,
how their entwined stems create new souls.
Sighing miraculously to inner dwellings
I take in the last real stroke of such birth
before my body retires unto remembered dreams
alive and searching for gardens above the fading sky.

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Latest Comments

  • 13 years ago

    by Liquid Grace

    Oh my goodness. What a wonderful piece. I'm simply taken aback by your flow and vocabulary. I'm shocked this has yet to be commented on.

    I'm speechless, this poem has left me wanting more.