like angels birthed from the golden eyes of heaven
i watched you sleep as the rain fell peaceful and calming to me
my soul watched you sleep and your spirit, spoke
and i watched you sleep as rivers raged and oceans roared and Mother Nature quaked and came then bellowed from the very depths of the crusts of caves
that this time is precious
like diamonds buried deep within the snow and sand as it falls from the palm of one's hand and every solitary tear never wasted in vain like every smile
a song of hope
and i watched you sleep like angels birthed from the golden eyes of heaven
So we are like ships, crashing into one another then sinking back into ourselves.
This fire fueled by prayer;
Great Mountain, with your ridge back beauty and immoveable strength,
take my hand.
Walk with me into the village, where they have thoroughly forgotten the weight of your name. Teach me how to be a silent force; so loud, so enormous, all deaf hearts tune to the choir of your truth. Help me to soften around the things I hate, and have no control to possibly change. Or break me in two, three, four hundred distant ways until I am as imperfect as you - with shadows I can call home and learn to crawl up into.
Show me the way of family flowering over narrow passages, intoxicated by life, and everything becomes more beautiful with time.
So the stories we carry have never felt more precious, as we look out across this unlit season and wonder how you’ll possibly survive.
Sorrow is the door by which my inheritance showers gifts of sustenance into my outstretched heart.
So I enter
and wind around the circular square of buzzing sensation, until I come face to face with the tanned and toned silhouette of solitude
grazing upon red sunflowers, aroused by the seduction of springtime’s end.
Dark clouds loom, casting shadows atop our instinctual bodies, so I inch towards my aloneness as this exquisite one takes bold steps back towards me.
Slowly we stop, and stare into the deep set eyes of intimacy and the understanding of all things real.
As the sky parts, eager faces turn East. But I greet the sun in a different way
by quieting my pace to meet up with the pulse of the Earth and revealing parts of myself that I’ve been told to keep covered;
exposed skin, caught between the teeth of warmth and wind. And the lingering shyness of being witnessed in my wilderness.
* * *
April Glaser is extra-ordinarily sensitive to the environment - to the steady flow of energy and emotion bubbling below
the surface of everything. Writing is the artistic expression she utilizes to channel life's immensity. She visualizes artistry and profound beauty in this mysterious way of being.
It is her birthright. It is what makes her fully alive. This is what her poetry is made of. After all, she was born into the dark hands of
night. Visit [and subscribe to] April HERE
Companions Of This Farce Color Me Boldly For All Lovers I Know Are Lunatics How We've Come To Regard The Heart In Paradoxes Of Redemption & Pursuit I Have Worn The Madstone Smooth To The Crust & Recorded Molten Madrigals To The Sun Where The Lunacy Of Love Presumes An Ecstatic Moan I Have Forced Myself To Swallow The Juju Of Liquescent Moons And Sought To Spill Pale Light In Pools Of Cool Blue Irony All These Princely Cousins Of Narcissus Think Of Me Mouthless Make Of Me Thoughtless Forget That Where Revolution Begins It All Ends In The Language Of Gasoline & Matches . . .
-randini-
*Randy Welch is a multifaceted artist in Denver, Colorado, USA. He can be reached HERE
Randy is the first to submit to my global request of inviting all forms of creativity to be displayed and promoted here and to the world. I invite all of you on this journey.
M O L O T O V H E A R T is a dynamic stream of consciousness and I am honored to bring fresh, enlightening and diverse trains of thought your way.