A phantom mist rises slowly
Over the parched barren land
A lone bloom, enamored with the tranquility
Takes a solemn bow, to the gracious hand.
A whirling pool of magic
Is born , as a beautiful sorceress
Spinning an enthralling lattice
In the sepia sea, she dances.
The Air begs a somber moment,
A storm is approaching
Promises like whispers, torment
The little Flower, waiting.
Like crystals from heaven,
The sky sheds a tear
A weeping mother, sins forgiven
Feeds her babe, her precious with care.
The little bloom stands his ground
With a strength that would sanction
Samson’s tremble and Hercule’s frown
Drinking this magic potion.
The flower like a lone soul,
Longing for his lover’s kiss
Drinks every drop as it performs the role
Imbibing a nectar, drowning in bliss.
For this moment rare indeed
Heaven takes a sigh and Nature prances
Apollo looks on with pride, and Wind rides a steed
Around the little bloom in the Deserts’ dances.
Nandi
03-31-03
2 comments:
You created some awesome images there. However, I didn't quite understand the title..why a 'dance'?
like a dance that is choreographed, so too I look on life as a series of events like a dance
Post a Comment