Sunderance Poem by Sylvie Morel
Sunderance
A beating in the air,
a soft light calls to me.
A journey dry as dust, brittle as bone,
a gathering of sundered pieces.
A mystery rushing up from within me,
summons me beneath my own.
A gentle stream where earth meets sky,
a soft moan escapes the moon.
A beating in the air,
a sundered soul restored.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
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4/30/2024 7:47:18 AM # 1.0.0.1119
