Treasure Island

Alven L. Robinson


The Mind of Silk


The mind of silk, woven with a rosary of jade,

lingers as a saint beside the fire, watching

the fabric burn into the night, turned to smoke,

left without a trace or wake behind the tides

of form, relinquished as the shadows

on a moonlit pond, now emptied of their light,

their passion faded to simplicity, as whiteness

to the snow, merging with the heron's wings,

circling toward the heights, returned as rhythm

to the skies, come and gone as seasons

in a moment's dawn, without a breath of purpose,

limpid as the waters, quiet as the distant well

listening to the drifting leaves of time.

Submitted: Thursday, June 12, 2014

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Topic(s): spiritual

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