Such are these places
where lovers of bliss behold
the angel of peace:
Above the burning,
and below the cold of all
the sad killing fields;
Where poetry sighs,
smiling magic in the lap
of flesh and blood joy;
Upon the shoulders
of elders carved beautiful
by sage artistry;
Where a starbright gown
trails healing through gardens of
eternity’s laughter;
In the arms of dreams
that shepherd hope through the eyes
of praying children;
Under waterfalls
bristling silk storms from the shores
of my skin to yours;
In the taste of a woman
glowing firemilk through
the tips of her breasts;
Afloat on rhythms
of minds too stoned on love to
recall how bombs work;
At the edge of a
man’s kiss casting holy spells
of sweet compassion;
Inside the beauty
of faith’s unburied treasure
sparkling truth and hope;
Beneath trees of song
heavy with angelic light,
evergreen with strength;
Upon the wings of
nightingales trilling comfort
to embattled grace;
In your heart’s whisper,
soft as love, that truly all
is well with your soul.
By Aberjhani
© 8/5/2006