The Taste Of Wind

The world at sunrise unfurls its silent scenic scroll

of sights that hold their secrets in the air.

You can’t ever truly appreciate the depths of their beauty,

know so intently their inner quintessence,

until you have with every fiber of clarity

tasted of the wind

with the lips of the soul.

 

For it is the eyes that dwell within

that only have the gaze to peer through any veil,

intuitively touching what isn’t seen,

felt more than sensed

as a gossamer murmur from creation's ageless voice.

A resound that reaches out from the inside

what stirs a reaction like a haunting specter.

Aware it exists beyond our perceptions

in that layer of ethereal mists

often intruding into our dreams.

 

To surrender to the lure it summons

is to embrace with the deepest delving acquiescence

at the timeless lairs of lucid luminosity.

 

Like a icy brush against the skin

it suddenly seeps so far into our consciousness.

There it glows with its pure truth,

becomes a flame that awakens new eyes.

 

By waves of awareness the flood in trust begins

and we are immersed in the sanguine serenity,

beguiled by that breathless spell in epiphany,

which swells its fire as a sun in our spirit,

totally igniting our thoughts

so peace comes to the moment

and the stars sing their laughter

while the roses we hesitated to grasp

for fear of thorns,

no longer makes our fingers tremble.