Salsa Of A Soul Poem by Gert Diedericks

In absence of what day may bring,
abundance shines
where only night may see;
roots to leaves on tethered shroud.

Distance gallops within its sacred void.
Moping breeze of muted string;
bouncing incessant to starlight's' dawn.

Lost to eye,
not hidden from heart,
twirling and toiling;
fossilized salsa of salty yawns,
too late, too soon, to get;
ever fading swoon
like an amethyst;
etched in sage,
a growth in glance
where nothingness,
begets everything.