The mystery of Life she expounds
to your inmost flame;
your vessel she blesses, that it may
heed Time's decree.
No mortal affliction shall impede
your pathway to her favour;
the deaf may hear her tones,
the blind, see her light,
the mute, chant her praise,
the lame, sway in her radiance,
for she moves the Soul to
hear and speak, to dance and sing.
Her whisper whelms
the tyrant's roar, her touch enfeebles
the barbs of man's contempt.
Her tints she rains upon your domain,
even upon shores of your unbelief
that repel tides of Hope.
Her voice you would discern
in the moonlight tinkling upon the rill;
its silver tones take
unto your heart. Seek her, as the lily
that lines the grave
looks up to the Sun she no more sees.
Call to her in silent worship,
as a swan to the one rainbow that
knows its death-song.
In dreams, journey to your Spirit's birth,
to where Truth's golden shadow falls,
for, upon its eternal crest,
Beauty renews herself.
© 2016 Lily's Verse
Image: THE VENUS THAT WAS NEVER FINISHED
Artist: John Duncan