Pieces of you, I've collected;
Soothingly held - *like pebbles kept in pockets.
Never once feeling the weight,
only their sparkle**.

(the gate's been left hitched open, with fraying string   ajar)*

"Although, I've left you clear directions to the travellers' garden path -
              yet, you've chosen a different route - to all you're searching for."    

I wait, at a journeys end of heady scents, tending ancient roses trees at it's breadth;

Sipping warming cups of rosemary blues, infused with sweet thymes' underneath.
                      
Perhaps, just an invitation to the garden was quite enough... to let fear decide your fate.

*Bared soles should move with deeper love... when pure destiny awaits.

Hurt... like the tigeress,
who stood on a thorn; Only
she keeps licking the pain ~
for the scent of rose.

Briefly, I glimpsed a lone tiger today.
Felt  her presence at distance, as she
   smoothed bristled fur... with
rough tongue!

Metanoia begs the muse   believe...              
"Accept the current, do not fight the flow."      

True, and known,
these aching limbs must
rest within the deepest ebb
- as the ocean swells
with each new
moon.

Drifting far
when floating; Sinking
deeply into crystal nothingness
- unless held by a sturdy rock,
tethered taut.
                
Promises sung, in rounds, stay...
Swirled upon a blushed summers breeze; Heard,
liberated, in flight's of birdsong
across sunset skies.
  
       Connected distant energies may still   
but for always, will burn brightly in each
& every shining light seen by
her sextant soul

[eyes]
on the
   Voyage  
      ahead.    

"Surrender the past  & tomorrow  comes... 
un-blinkered,
never unbound."
  
~ ♥ ~

living life* without a single metaphor, is **like...