Sunday 7 February 2016


MYSTERIUM


My graceless, unlearned palms cradle
a wrinkled white testament
to your journey, infolded as a nestling 
cleaving to its own feeble warmth.
I would will my roseate pulse into its
weightless curves and branches, 
decipher the Great Cartographer's 
handiwork that links 
your pathway to the Tree of Life.
I no more perceive the scars that recast
this implement of unfettered
rapture into one of voiceless restraint;
did fading lines and nodes
consume them with your breath?
Did you translate them onto parchment
and canvas, as you minimalised
your universes into words and vignettes,
seeking meaning in illusions,
setting Beauty free,
a gesture of detachment, sacred,
intimate as prayer?
Metaphors come alive through dead years,
your bequest to me,
your dreams and visions indelibly wrought
into my texture.
I shall immerse my spirit in the River of Life
that chronicles your days and nights
in a semi-secret script, esoteric knowledge,
twilight its sole adornment. 
What do you hold now in your fluttering
fingers, as Night swallows
the last light in your eyes, leading you
beyond earthly skies?
Commend these threads to us who would
tinge them in our Summers' vats.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: STUDY OF HANDS
Source: www.wikiart.org
Artist: Leonardo da Vinci

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