THE SOLITARY ROSE OF YOUR BREATH
“If a thing loves, it is infinite.” — William Blake
THE SOLITARY ROSE OF YOUR BREATH
“If a thing loves, it is infinite.” — William Blake
personal photo
Angels alight, a slight, feathery goodnight kiss, behind her eyes, a guardian angel sighs. The whisperer lies behind the song, all misfortune in thought is exorcised: close harmonies, fugues coalesce when nothing’s wrong with her. A song in a minor key, a longing to be whole and free, to roll away the stone from her and me.
On this seafront, there is an old flat stone, where, in the creamy moonlight of a raggedy romance, men and women pledge, and men and women dance, under the moon where a single ghost abides… inside our star-crossed eyes.
Owls screech their ageless, endless cries to a high, star-cluttered sky. It is a place where all our dreams come true, moonstruck eyes and derring-do; we flee into the glassy sea, echoing the old, old story, whisper it soundlessly, enriched by such and such wild sprigs of poetry.
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- 2026-07-28 02:51:27
