Thursday, March 19, 2015



I drove my daughter to school today, and then turned toward home. The sun was just coming up over the mountains, surrounded by clouds. Oh my Light, a sign of my Beloved appearing!

I wish I could have captured with a camera, the cloud of glory rising, how I spied it again, gleaming between the splitting branches of a birch tree. It was the sun, and it was more than the sun.

And yet this was a sight which could not be caught by any gaze except that of the heart, a flower pressed between the pages of an eternal book, waiting eagerly for such a ray of morning. "White Aster! I am here!"

How long we have kept our secrets--and how much longer we shall keep them, only the sunset can guess.






2 comments:

raw poetry by donna snyder said...

White Aster , I am here.

Iulia Flame said...

Yes Donna --

En plein air - in memoriam Andrew Bellon

A dreamless sleep falls from the shimmering leaves. --Sappho fragment, tr. Andrew Bellon I changed, thickened, ...

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