Unseen and yet
the phoenix rises
over head from ashes now grown cold.
Unheard and yet
the crystal fountain rushes
with jade and emeralds,
their essence sounding delicately like
a bell of golden light that rings
with laughing sounds.
Unfelt and yet
the darkness of the night
blows bottomless through the room,
a tangible presence
like the chanting prayers of monks
long since gone from this world.
Unsmelt and yet
the perfume of the flowers
we once thought of
exhale a breath
of yellow dust
that makes us weep.
Untasted and yet
the sleepless moments
we cannot run from
linger like a bitter wine
who's taste will not quite
wash away.
And here for just a second
we almost sense these things
and a shiver passes over us
and we do not know why.
May 29, 2010
May 29, 2010 at 2:56 PM UTC
Unseen and yet
the phoenix rises
over head from ashes now grown cold.
Unheard and yet
the crystal fountain rushes
with jade and emeralds,
their essence sounding delicately like
a bell of golden light that rings
with laughing sounds.
Unfelt and yet
the darkness of the night
blows bottomless through the room,
a tangible presence
like the chanting prayers of monks
long since gone from this world.
Unsmelt and yet
the perfume of the flowers
we once thought of
exhale a breath
of yellow dust
that makes us weep.
Untasted and yet
the sleepless moments
we cannot run from
linger like a bitter wine
who's taste will not quite
wash away.
And here for just a second
we almost sense these things
and a shiver passes over us
and we do not know why.
Copyright June 1995 by Timothy Emil Birch