Her anima you could not spatter
upon your canvas, nor its
journey trace upon parchment.
No earthly likeness could contain
its vastness, no tongue
conceived by man its undulating
silhouette explicate, nor brush,
nor quill its merging
planes and strands limn.
Instead, let your heartstrings quiver
with her tunes, her image
engrave upon the dome of your
spirit. She sways to the
rhythm of Life's first heartbeats,
your cold silences she would
suffuse with its sacred joy.
Behold how she melts stars in her
crucible, a shimmering poultice
prepares for your frozen heart!
The choicest hues of her own skies
she would harvest, these to
splash upon your overcast vault.
Her grace shall succour as you
traverse rugged expanses,
when harsh Day's splinters sting
your flesh. She sees your boat in the
squall, your sojourns in
barren hills and lonely caverns,
your search for light, for lightness.
Your ragged breath she hears, as,
blind to time and place,
you labour thro' Winter winds 'neath
bitter skies. Your bleakest
spaces she knows, your waterless
springs whispers into flowing.
Speak to her of your dreams, that
she may place provision
in your path. By her sublime Light
shall you live when Life's tides
engulf your sun. As your earthly form
verdant, tellurian swathes
treads, shall your soul dance
upon her ætheric shores.
© 2015 Lily's Verse