poetry & things

Ethereal flower

Love silent, falls

it touches soft, invisibly floats

unseen by the scope of eyes

comes brushing by, or comes in a down pouring,

wet washing the soul, unwavering, wordless it unfolds

travels most rugged terrain, smooths the way

there is no season for its efflorescence

it sits, a silent bud, any moment to flower

always we know it’s fragrance

it is the way, the path

a flitting, ethereal flower

one, that we can never grasp

Post navigation
Scroll to top