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Love It's not in your river of
stars upon my
lips at dawn,
or how I watch the blue
always changing in
your eyes
and wonder how those
ghosts of spring
can float so freely
in their cage
just beyond my reach.
It's not in your skin
when it shatters me
and recreates me
from fire and
discovers the secret
joy I keep for you
as I freely
trade my breath
for yours.
It's not in the places
we found sacred:
the oceans that loved
us with each blast
of crystal,
the forests that
blessed us like priests,
or even the moon
when she dropped her
steaming robe on some
green-scented nights.
It's in a trembling flame,
sapphire veil,
a breath I rode from
infinity,
a star the day cannot
pound into dust,
a soul that found its
way from rock to light:
It's in the
center of myself
that I have found you.
by Patricia Joan Jones
These evoctive words feel
These evoctive words feel like a heartbeat, steady and luminous, weaving their way into something deeper than memory. They capture love—not just in moments or places, but as something elemental, something forged from fire and breath—so breathtaking. It feels like an invitation to step into a universe where connection isn’t bound by time or space but is written into the very essence of being. Thank you for sharing this; it's a reminder that love isn’t only found, it’s recognized, awakened, and lived.
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"Thank you” doesn’t seem to be enough right now. I’m insanely happy that you visited one of my oldies and left the most superb, precise and expansive analysis I could ever hope for. A huge thank you!
The is so much more to the
The is so much more to the excruciatingly fleeting present of online poetry. We do have to dig for its treasures and sometimes they are quite literally buried unders more recent posts and threads.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
you are a master
and one needs to meditate
for a long time on your poems
to unfurl their many trails