Dialogue of Hearts

by Abbya

i,
your love inhabits impossible caverns;
do not withhold the delicate musicality
of this refreshing affection, 
show me instead where they open
the bold doors of truth
hand me the divining key, sing to me,
sing with me
this cleasing hymn of silence
long unsung 
with symphonies of aged elevations

ii,
bear endless chorus of mitigating angels;
but when will the affirming rain fall 
to soften this waiting heart
against shrouded clouds, famished thunders? 
not when my cold world 
is broken in ant crumbs of your absences
or drained through time's indifferent fingers
reviving, like Phoenix,
when you rise

iii,
reinvent these lyrics, sweetness 
sensibilities with the physical
precision of your profound promises, 
i leave my submitting soul plain 
and bare in your healing hands,
knead it, squeeze it, burn it; 
gather its breathing debris 
mold them, allow them stand 
like unimpeachable strands 
of your priceless dreams

iv,
you are the regale caller at dawn
i rise to your pubescent promises of day
i float like the bubbling butterfly
in the fragrance richness 
of your magnificent garden
sculpt me!
compose me!
live me!

v,
the vibrant resonance of your voice
and the lemon scent of your call
end this searing emptiness
resume flames of awakening,
your directing key is all i possess 
to the residual quietness, 
oasis of my light and discovery

vi,
post a claret mark on the yearning day,
from the strongroom declination of dreams 
to the discerning wells of thought, 
i escape treacherous tomorrows 
when softly your classic lines bring flowers 
to the lamp posts, mirrors stands 
of my mussing mind

vii,
who am i without you 
when hearts melt
to volcanic rampages of bitter days
and flowers feign firmness 
like lanterns blindfolded in hooded darkness 
of longing hearts;
days pass
as ghosts in stale winds, friendless

viii,
moon rises with dark songs endless,
sun comes with hounded hearts breathless;
like feverish doves
we subsume in fragile safeties
against the shouting storms
of wounded time

ix,
let me etch a golden fish 
on your beautiful chest 
your love has wings,
let it fly to heaven's eyes
and attest the bliss and confessions 
of our blind eyes 

x,
this song heals ripples 
in rubbles of hollow drums
with rings of roses
like paradise
in perfect version of creation, 
eden, you mold me 
with immortal clay of light


Dialogue of Hearts by Abbya

© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.



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