Saturday, 24. June 2006
Permanent Center of Gravity
Heart in summer
Walks into in fields
Of wild poppies,
And becomes a bottle
That holds the old ink
Pressed from
Gauzy skirts of their petals
Waving in the wind;
One continuous flag
For Hypnos,
The god of sleep
In whose arms
Loveless fitfully sleep.
It is only when The bottle breaks open And every Beatrice dips Her hand right into The heart of the heart To reveal the silence That abides within, Does the heart find Its permanent center Of gravity To fall into, fall towards.
Written in response to this photo by Elle
Image-ned Word
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