Insouciant Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

The wind fluttered the curtains as I wept.
Cannons of storm clouds thundered overhead.
You turned ever so slightly as you slept.
Sweet Osmanthus lingered around the bed.
The world never seemed so peaceful before.
I wondered what dreams had captured your mind.
The night in glittered glory came ashore
as wave upon wave left the past behind.

I never imagined your face nor frame,
never sought to soften the jagged stone.
I never knew such lips could speak my name
and make me believe its prayerful tone.
Infinity stretched long limbs of grace,
and my heart found flight on redemptive wings.
The moon's silver haze caressed your face
as soft as summer rain on silken strings.

The lost and hollow have hungered for this,
a rippling ring that shudders the soul,
a word, a moment, an embrace, a kiss,
a singular love that makes them feel whole.
The black hair of night cascades into ink,
spilling into pools of syllabic verse.
Surrounded by waves but never to sink,
we are creation's divine universe.

Matter and magic, a great mystery,
we are temporal, eternal, complete.
The beginning, the end, all history,
a lineage of dust and bone effete.
The pale hands of morning cradle my sigh.
I dream through your eyes of embroidered blue.
I pull a thread, unravelling the sky,
and discover heaven inside of you.

The ghost of memories is laid to rest.
Footfalls of silence mark the journey's end.
Teardrops, white blossoms, and soft lips are pressed
upon the remnants that somehow transcend.
All paths are sacred, each shadow for good,
absolution is a psalm in my hand.
The stone, the iron, and carvings of wood
are voiceless echoes which rise from the land.

Life is unfurled like a quickening flag,
like narrow ships on the sails of a cloud,
like petals swept in a watery drag,
or a widow draped in a spectral shroud.
Sing sweet my soul upon the minstrel wind.
The heart is a canvas of blue and gold;
and when yet this breath is at final end,
I shall find a warmth though my hands be cold.