In spring, green along the river
amid ancestral foothills, we walk deer trails
wild in the woods of scented pine
of silver sycamores, silken barked
stark, they pale against bluest skies
their new leaves green and glistening
we are listening for songbirds, for a language without words
transfixed, through this portal, reborn in this world
warm winds speak sweet and susurrus of spring
melodious they sing, leaving far behind
the cold, the dead of winter.

I am an
emotional
      archeologist
digging d
                 e
                        e
                                p
into the contours
of the heart
trying to discern
what spots
need tender healing,
how to treat and
soothe its
fissured parts
I am a soul-mind
                   excavator
discerning
temperature and hue
measuring the depths
of textures
as we get down
to the root
We work hard,
my team and I
mapping earthen layers
we use the implements
                     of wisdom
to try and heal
this pain acute
and as we gently
cut through the strata
of history, of scars
I know that this
         explorer's work
is worth it
for we will reach up
to the stars
So we continue on
in patience,
into the
blazing core
      like truth-warriors
like healers
      unlocking secret
ancient treasures
that will rise up
to the
fore

I don't know what to say other than ......

I wish
I could hold you tight
And that you'd hold me
In a cocoon of togetherness, spun of the strongest thread
Only to break as beauty forces itself out into the world
It's metamorphosis delicate, fragile
Exquisite in its simplicity

I wish
I could kiss you .......

(C) Pixievic