Exiled to Bliss

 

Grateful for fleeting moments such as these,

Do you feel the breeze with a lakeside tease?

Through rose-hips a Mastodon once played round-

The sun, pleasing rough meadow grasses sound,

A foreshadow of the last track walking-

This way, this time; that’s the mountain talking,

Bathing itself in mists, the cleansing Spring,

Unfurls yet never out of reach or wring.

 

Rushes dance as we remain still at ease,

Fading shorelines imprint magical frieze,

Heart-warming sculptured rhythms display art,

Omens at dusk, prophetic dawns play their part,

Exiled to bliss with anthemscapes so bound,

Patient for healer’s breaking new ground,

Allowing freedom thus captivating –

A complete feeling emancipating.

 

Surrounding us now this timeless silence,

Showing itself by way of true guidance,

A glint in the sky lets fly all we seek,

Does not absence yield a deeper mystique?

Renewing the vows with our natural self,

The view’s a lesson in being yourself,

For home is where the start is, so begins –

The end of affliction, saving our skins.

 

03 January 2015

©Daniel Brooks-Laurent

[To anyone going through uncertainty with health - find the hope all around you.]