Translations linger like unmade choices on tongues unsure and unsteady, motions and rotations of hips slowly eclipsing jealous thighs like plump planets transpiring to fly in closer arcs by the sun. I am undone the tragic tiptoe heroine, find a line that fits the curve and ride it to the depth of later elemental fusions. Echoing words nestle into evolving ears and meanings are transcribed in tender more elusive patterns, coy, like subtle blushes, soft as eyelashes flashing in shadow or sun, misstresses of darkness and draconian flight. Devils of raw, untrained emotion a locomotion of train and search warrent lameness limping through the alleys of whispered song, masquerading as angels in eloquence, deceptive trickery in furls of crimson ribbon. I reach deeper and leap farther than legs or wings could take me and I stretch in circles to encompass the darker light.
"Devils of raw, untrained emotion a locomotion of train and search warrent lameness limping through the alleys of whispered song, masquerading as angels in eloquence, deceptive trickery in furls of crimson ribbon." Some think, do they not, that they can take, and give nothing back. Yet Nature makes her Adjustment, the lightning strikes, drawn down from the darkened skies, and they are literally and metaphorically shocked. Then they would point to those of us willing to stand beneath that unfurling bolt of inspiration, and call it destruction. Yet it was their unwillingness to recieve that destroyed them. Light In Extension can now be translated as Your Smiling Radiance.
Creation and destruction are unanimous terms, to destroy you are also creating a void where something (nothing in the case of creation) dwelt before.
'Echoing words nestle into evolving ears and meanings are transcribed in tender more elusive patterns, coy, like subtle blushes, soft as eyelashes flashing in shadow or sun,' ~* Sigh, your poems are so full and ripple with powerful expressions. Thank you for sharing. This central part is such a joy to linger on...
Thanks everyone. It seems like I lose myself to the writing and ghosts are whispering lines in my ears. Sometimes I wish I could think more critically.