In a bloom that ripens you never have to rush,
O glory Amaranthine, amarantos, a holy hush,
Beauty unfading an ever that lasts soft to open,
Somehow you never wither blossom in a wind,
Age to age passes us by alive you are the same,
If others could only see you as I do what flame,
I feel it in a shady sun a close your eyes & hum,
In a smallest simple never done -- perfect plum,
It's more than never changing ever w/you bare,
Some mornings lay me awake--I can only stare,
Then a break-through-moment breathes me by,
All the world's a memory inside me as we sigh.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 7:44 AM UTC
In a bloom that ripens you never have to rush,
O glory Amaranthine, amarantos, a holy hush,
Beauty unfading an ever that lasts soft to open,
Somehow you never wither blossom in a wind,
Age to age passes us by alive you are the same,
If others could only see you as I do what flame,
I feel it in a shady sun a close your eyes & hum,
In a smallest simple never done -- perfect plum,
It's more than never changing ever w/you bare,
Some mornings lay me awake--I can only stare,
Then a break-through-moment breathes me by,
All the world's a memory inside me as we sigh.
In my own mind there are these Wallace Stevens moments that are amaranthine blossoms of the imagination walking everywhere and always wondering how you can stay so beautiful in an opening line that never closes.
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