FOR NAMJOON

PEBBLE

 

You call me to bend to the ground,

to where you fell as light

slowed to rest upon a cosmic blink,

when a twinkling hung

between you and the nascent Moon.

I pause by whispering waters

upon the forest trail to the verdant

cathedral that is my agonist’s refuge,

yielding to your gentle gravity

and soundness, as untruths crumble

around their artificers

who chronicle their ascendancy

in numbers and impedimenta.

I reach for the dust whence I came

for an even Moment,

for you who were born from the fire

of the ocean floor,

for a fathomless tome of Earth’s

memories in her ancient Library.

I cradle you, an Aeon of Tales, in my

unlearned palm, a Guide

the rage and benevolence of currents

sheared and shaped

into discernment, incising Way and

Waiving into sage smoothness.

You gaze into the heart of the woods,

glean the sparkle and darkness

of celestial orbs,

attend the faith of the Oracle Tree.

Do you meet butterflies’ caresses and

serpents’ scales with equal joy;

greet the brigand’s trampling and the

hermit’s prayerful tread alike

with serene acquiescence? You merge

mirthful tears and broken;

drink deep of Sun’s warmth and Winds’

coolness, clad now in loam,

then, in rain; soothe hands and essence

of all who crave your solace.

The scholar delves as I for your journey

and meaning; yet I come to seek

your still forbearance, that I may root

as you in our Mother’s wisdom.

I am a mere sojourner in your realm

of constancy and consequence;

yet you confer a belonging no mortal kin

of blood or soul could impart,

for you prevail as an immortal Mind;

as a shining numeral upon the Universe’s

clock face, alive with history,

changeless, timeless, amid evanescing

Life and Death, humble,

yet immense as Rock and Mountain.

Stories converge in your ageless laminae;

you enounce their light

in the silent tongue of the Prophet who

lives the Path. I imbibe your

wordless emanations, such awakening an

eternal Truth in my eyes and soul:

All are One.

© 2020 Lilium Candidum

Lily’s Verse

Image: twitter.com

FOR TAEHYUNG

INSCENDENCE

 

A Voice like snowflakes bearing starlight

and violet Dusks glancing

the winding river embosoms the Dawn.

Your Song is the boat in the

gloaming with sails of spangled plumes

and oars of moonlit dreams,

a cold Perfume that enfolds and warms

in shades of Fire and Ice.

You take Winter’s light for your canvas

and an icicle for your brush;

yet you sing us the Flowers and Flowing

and a recondite Whiteness,

that mystical sum of colours raying the

peace of a haven of clouds

that engulfs the Soul

as consciousness receives Spirit.

Man and Child angle for diamond orblets

in fluent crystal, possessing each

with a breath or thought,

impressing reflections into tides merging

time, space and silence

to ward their profoundest musings.

Your verse bespells and stirs;

Incertitude shines as a lamp in deepest

recesses of my frozen Lake,

thawing the Blue, raising me into Day

even as you descend

into frigid grey torrents to retrieve

lost echoes of a hapax logomenon with such

depth of ear as the prophets praise.

An Axiom of cerulean domes your world,

an eternal silver Mystery

marks its pinnacle; you poetise your course

to its heart, for you know Life as

Passer of Destiny’s design, a Prism whose

memory alone lives, endures.

Silted Shadows yield many-hued Blossoms;

promises of Pardon await

in the tribunal of Conscience; the Task shall

be restored to its sovereign plane.

A bird on a blue wing

hunts a Moment of Spring across the Sky,

as you walk the Passage to Meaning

at Frost’s edge.

The Season speaks a blessing into your Eye,

that you may somewhen

follow the arc of a kaleidoscope of butterflies,

a fleeting, floating mosaic,

to the eternal Summer of the Child

a Rainbow enwombs.

 

© 2020 Lilium Candidum

Lily’s Verse

Image: twitter.com