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One perfect autumn day,
you stood under maples
in Northern Illinois, and there
was this kind of yellowness.

With compassion and technology,
you captured the light,
gave us an image,
gave us peace.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Like a small bird
gathering bright objects for her nest,
I am gathering life.

Hands which reached out to me lead me on,
so I left at their bidding
for an ocean in the East.

Traveling through the night
as if lost in a waking dream,
I came at last to her proximity
and slept in an unknown room.

In the morning light,
beyond the highways,
I suddenly saw her, all April morning
blue and still.
Ocean water bathed my feet,
rinsed the crystal beads and pearls
I had worn to greet her.

Deep in the woods now, I see temples everywhere.
In the woodland light, some churches are.
Pagodas of bark and moss in the filtered light,
Ice caverns blue and still begin to melt
beside the waterfall that thunders down,
breathing mist in our faces, garlanding itself
in rainbow light.

In the small city airport
I am folded into the arms of my mother-of-pearl.
Salt water flows easily from my eyes -
like the sweet nectar filling my mouth.
"E facile per le farfalle di volare, sai."

I walk out into the grey-wet airfield,
screaming sounds of engines.
Walking forward, I close my eyes,
and the world is only light.

Now, I have come back to you,
with marzipan, and peacock feathers,
and stories of my adventures.

The light blazes, and the stars
send down their song.

The Universe is singing.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
This was written in April of 1978, after a visit to the East Coast. I was about to attend the first 'Student's Summer Sidhi Course' at Maharishi International University - which culminated with learning Yogic Flying. This is the context for my mother saying: È facile per le farfalle di volare, sai." (It is easy for butterflies to fly, you know.")
Don't wait for its light to come to you!
Breathe in its light -
Now!
As if it were your own.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
You may not have meant to
and you probably didn't  
but your smile
and your voice
have left soft footprints on my heart.
Because of that, as soon as you left
I had to get up and dance,
alone here on the gallery floor,
amongst the paintings I am meant to be selling.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Images flow
from the river inside you,
and you make them whole and real.
As for me,
this chasm of light that holds my heart,
sparkles around you
like phosphorescence  
in a salty sea.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Gentle silence
has soaked
into the
thick walls
around me.

And
there is
blessedness
amongst
the boxes.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Gaia, The World (nee Earth)
Suddenly, at home, aged 4.5 billion years, The World Gaia (nee Earth),
surrounded by her loving nucleur family, Gaia passed away after a long
battle with humanity. She is survived by her partner of 3 billion years, Luna,  eight siblings, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune, and countless cosmic cousins. Predeceased by a younger brother, Pluto.
Gaia was the mother of all, and a selfless provider. She brought rain or let the sun into everyone's life.
Cremation has taken place.
In lieu of flowers there is nothing else.
Condolences at this time are fruitless.
There will be no service.
We've succumbed
To the pandemic
Of awkward confusion;
Where the rabbit,
Not magician,
Is half the illusion.
We're topsy-turvy,
I'm getting sick:
We're highly toxic,
It's acute, not chronic,
We've set the cameras
On ego-centric.
Father
you were in my dream
confused, calling out for your own mother
though she was gone the year
I learned to walk

you walked
while you talked
your hair was not yet gray
yet you were more befuddled
than on your deathbed
in the poppy's soft
sluggish embrace

I could not trust
your words in the dream
why do these creamy visions
visit me, you so long
under the dirt?

what other words will come
when I am defenseless, in repose
wishing for more from you, perhaps
even though it is fiction
I can never
decipher
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