Soul Pressed Poetry

Poetry that comes from our soul.

stones (5 Feb 2011)

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The stones moved into my eyes
I stared and stared
until I stared back at myself
a mixture of hazel and confusion
iris darkly rimmed
like a winter moon
pupil darkly large
learning

I stared and stared
into a night’s harbour
folded with hills
and one lamp sprang forth
outing all the shadows, one lamp
darkness could not claim
an iris shining

what gleamed around my face
what golden light circled me
what radiance filled me
my form super-imposed
light sculpting light
my mirage taking form
into the tricks of night

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