Eden

 

The quiet is quite unfriendly,
Quickly abrading the garden’s peace,
Lashing out the doves’ darling white wings,
Addling those birds’ acuity.
The wind’s kiss is fierce yet gentle,
Indulgent, oppressive, kind, and sweet.
Only can they know this, the greens—
They want to abscond from this cuddle!
Then the voice (How it thunders in
Like a group of marching sentinels,
Wild, in unison, and disciplined)
Slashes the menacing silence.
A clarion call it speaks, my senses
Are flung to the ground, brought to life:
In nothing is something! Listen
To your heart’s whispers, they’re alive!

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s