Windswept trees bend and shake
worn out sky-paths of familiar dawn breaks
Earth’s rusty core rumbles deep groans at long last
as the cavern-splitting cries of future-times past
The beautiful longing of time echoes loud
in the hollow spaces between the breath and the cloud.
Then is now and now is here
as then is now and now it’s clear
Here beats the rhythm of ancient hearts
as the cry of newborn hope joyfully imparts
A slow blooming bush burns bright
in the sparkle of the new day’s light
The fragrance of life lingers anew
amidst joyful anticipation of fresh fruit hues
Inside the ancient forest an owl-call echoes the King:
‘Kill the mocking bird and let the true songbirds sing!’
Wisdom rings the ancient bell of blooms
and summons all to rise and ruffle their plumes
for deep within her bosom hides the secrets of the Bridegroom
as she shakes the dust and commands the empty tombs.
The forest is about to bloom.
