Among Gods

A Poem

photo by writer

Illustrious grass raising freckled violets
Resinous aroma in Spring’s wood
Wind rushing, brushing the iridescent feathers
Soaring — with the blue sky on shoulders.
Thundering wind
Rushing through senses phantasmagorical -
Memories surreal
Probabilities absurdist
Possibilities infinite.
Empathy for the God
Weaving illumined through the Road;
A profound bliss to ensconce any reverie
To rouse to the prickling pine needles,
To find the eternal wave whether storm or shore
To four I owe the grace and gold.
Be this a hymn to the Fourth -
I hear — I see — and shall never not know —
That whispers She
“Find me, and turn thy back on heaven”!

the last line is borrowed from Emerson’s Brahma