Saturday, August 17, 2013

The Angel


Those below 
do not realise that when they breath
when they utter even the softest of whispers
that I rise upon the thermals of their words,
that I climb ever upwards on their sentences,
let fall my pledges to the earth
and dance when they sigh.

Sometimes one who is more attentive
becomes aware of my passing;
a soft flow of air, the merest zephyr betrays me.
Sometimes as I rise I pass one at prayer, 
or in quiet meditation.
Briefly our paths cross:
fellow travellers in the same airy spaces.

But mostly those below remain unaware
when I plummet in a cascade of light.
Becoming, in the last shard of time, 
fluid as water 
and our beings merge.




Painting by William Baxter Closson


6 comments:

  1. Simply beautiful! The words and the painting. Thank you.

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  2. Great poem Emma. I really enjoyed reading it, Keep up the good work - Shane

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  3. Thank you for your kind words, Shane!

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  4. Absolutely breathtaking..deeply beautiful words...and such a gorgeous image! Your posts always have a profound effect upon my spirit..they make my heart dance and soul fly..and leave me feeling peaceful!
    Blissful poetry!
    Victoria

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  5. Thank you so much Victoria. I feel blessed with a kindred spirit like yourself, whose spirit responds, whose heart dances, and whose soul flies on my words.

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