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