Water Manifesto
25 September, 2000
Author: Kristen
| Manifested in sultry glassed lake, out of bounds in the cricketed call night...but these foothills gold have always held mounded springs open to the child of waters. We giggle, freely tipsy into shores, and shorn of coverings of flight in day, mirrored prism purse refracting the essential tidal moon, trickles of starry starry night into milky beams trees sway. Hush, the cops can hear the children rustle through density of dust August in the draughted land forgotten seven years of fallow scorches breath. The sloping sticky shore, slipping past piles of fabrics mild released, sucking toes coolest ease of Indian camp and yellow jacketed sting's salve...Siren's calling softly humming in skating lace of water bugs glide time: infintesimally grandiose, minute resolute, the tapestry of dipping slicing swiftest mermaid fingers in the lights of danger zone. We brush tingling fillament skin, our legs wakeful in the ambiotic fluidity creation. Weightless, grace of caring not if the eyes peeking from oak knotted burl flesh witness the erogenous zone. Yet, this timesless movement through magic underneath foutains stilled in planets flicker, the echo of distanced wave flare torched to ash, is not the eros of youth forbidden's pleasure in mooned translucent pregnant glow flesh; at best, it is eternity of mourning strawed locks rehydrated by dew flood bath, rebirth simple. At worst, it is the silence of depths unfathomed by reason, instinctually gathering the soak of regenerations. East Indian printed gauze of auburn and slate rest in waiting for my return to senses, yet sensation satiated, fourfold, folded philo bliss kiss: body, mind, spirit, soul, all whole step into the morn. Glistening singing Self swallows burning globe of pinkest clouded dawn. A song in the distanced near thresholds the way to everlasting clarity. Ivy has taught her well: if resevoirs are empty, lapping seasons out of time bring buds fresh of palms lightest green infant's breath. |
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