Blossom

Spring Blooms

I long to know

The one who is unknowable

The one who is formless

From which all beauty

Manifests

I long to hear the sound

Of sweet melody

From the one which resides in silence

At that point in creation

Between an idea and its realization

The cusp is where I long to be

To run to the safety of the one

In whose protective arms

I can blossom and play