A Many Few


Many a jewelled searching word rings in my ears
Sung, spoken in heavenly laughter
Processions through candle-lit valleys of love
The flame simply reflects in the eye of beauty.

And the planting season, harvesting reason
begins to earth, shaking, moving, growing
Transcend then to the place of the promise of knowers
beyond the gentle leaves of unified resonance

The bird of the heart spoke of the contented home
but I awoke and could not remember. She flew again
and skimmed over seas of light intensly coloured wonder
seeing those who adorn the impression of nothingness, these are few.
M.H.