WindRose
by Magda Palmer Cordingley, page 5
by Magda Palmer Cordingley, page 5
Mounting stages toward heaven, Riding them like ninety dragons, Mindful of transitory, Together savoured mystery, Growth and change in crystal sequence, Of fate's ninety dragons conscious; Threshold flying paths sublime, Harmonic motions scaling time, Dovetailed seconds giving pleasure, Swelling double every measure, First-fruit offerings never sewn, Nourishment before unknown; Effusive balmy fragrance entered, Flowing soul ward, power centred; Drifting high on buoyant cloud, Swirling, billowed, silken cloud; Wheeling dragons in the heavens, Conquered dragons sharing heaven. On the Earth is treasured water, Holding her by giving moisture; Penetrating water gives, Yielding Earth accepts and lives; Lesson taking from below Bird and I in constant flow Lived our days in blended ease, Composing, linking melodies; Flying patterns from my fingers- Stroking, happy, needed fingers; Housing orphaned strands of mist, Weeping mountains to be kissed; Helping East rejoice her birth- A sun each day, each siring Earth; Urging rustic church bells ring, I would blow, my Love would sing; Arias flowed on opal streams From he, the seeing eye of dreams. |  Skilled in all known arts of gathering,
Sometimes when My Heart was wandering,
Looking for a place enchanted,
Or a willow freshly planted;
I would muster heaven's flavour-
Tiny bits for him to savour,
A pinch of fizz from stars too bright,
Gold-dust from a cherub's flight,
Magic thoughts left in the air,
Perfume from a mermaid's hair,
Find two lovers by an ocean-
Steal small sprigs of their devotion;
Pound and grind them to a paste,
Spreading it upon my face,
Call him on the moonbeams' rays,
Cover him with powdered haze;
In he'd come with swift emotion,
Winging, silent, loving motion.
| Children made of children past Fashion paper birds to last; Trailing karmic names in fire, Now I as wind for his desire? Romantic lands he'd find to sail, Sing to me in sheltered vale, Entwine my heart with garlands blue- Blossoms of protective hue? Leave me in that precious spot, Call the flower forget-me-not; Leave me in that place divine, Leave me in that flower shrine; Days would pass and not a care Would ring through notes within the air... Let him be but hurt is dull, Strong and straining in it's pull; Paper Bird I loved I knew- But Bird? Perhaps the wind he always flew! Two weeks missing was my bird, Yearned our days of joy unheard By my brothers, by my sisters In the forests, in the rivers, By my parents in the heavens- Remote, estranged and longed for heavens, Rosary counted lands and oceans As a nun in mute devotions Solemn faced through prudent ages- Like a book with empty pages, Born for pleasure then deceived Like pomegranates Eve conceived; Broken and exhaustion stained, Sought Rowan tree and sleep obtained; Finding in my turbid twilight, Lovers in enraptured flight, Sudden crashes, lightning flashes, Fragmented hearts in trembling ashes. |
