Great art will always be great love,
of finding paths to show beloved
its aching heart, keeping tryst
with something missed.
It is this soul which grieves;
keeps vigil as it keens alone,
when wake has long gone home,
which makes the spirit breathe.
Great art prepares to greet each day,
as if love sublime has come to stay,
bright colors dance and tease
the eye, as beauteous patterns weave.
Words make music out of essence,
which seeks to resurrect new ways,
to bring to life a twice-born child
of yesterday's unfinished say.
Panmelys
(For my treasured sister Ann Clark- for whom I've lived double life)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem