Of silent, frozen wintry nights
the seeds sleep
in their hibernating hearths,
tombs of dormant thoughts,
hearts so cold and no taste of light,
buried without a promise
this barrenness, this hopeless icy life
will ever rise to know
when drifts don't hold dominion
over their world.
But life ascends in rays that thaw
awakened in the thorn or bloom
beset by the fated wand of transition.
Spring besets the cocoon release
Lepidoptera rises to face its days,
eyes always reflection the genesis.
Lips having new language
thistle or rose dialect
blooms.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
Wow! My brother, this is beyond words! I love the images you paint with these words! Fantastic!!
and love
