Valentine Poem
composed on a Valentine Day:
The Cave Of In-Being
==========================
a poem by Avi Abrams
The smooth, vibrant flow of stalagmites,
piercing my life with
measured, unrelenting intrusion;
the pool of half-forgotten blunders,
shimmering and lurking -
unapproached in ages,
in the secret middle place
of the cave, where I spend my being;
the shattered openings in a roof
- alluring with the brightest flashes -
and threatening to collapse
upon me...
...unexpected,
she enters.
Never did I invite anyone inside,
silence was my expression;
did I invent even her presence?
(my self is a culprit in a most
multitude of situations)
she approaches.
she whispers / cave replies with righteous
thunder, resonates with big, logical,
entirely scientific waves.
(and yet I know, she is a miracle.
'cause there is no entryway to my cave)
She admires the smooth flow of stalactites
and takes a dip in my pool...
she is unafraid.
Perhaps I should go forward and meet her,
because she is present in my future,
in my life in the glorious future - she is inside there already.
And nothing matters any more.
...the shape of the heart is the indented circle,
the bland, smooth ideal
violated
by the persistent influence
of
love.
@ February, 2005
The Cave Of In-Being
==========================
a poem by Avi Abrams
The smooth, vibrant flow of stalagmites,
piercing my life with
measured, unrelenting intrusion;
the pool of half-forgotten blunders,
shimmering and lurking -
unapproached in ages,
in the secret middle place
of the cave, where I spend my being;
the shattered openings in a roof
- alluring with the brightest flashes -
and threatening to collapse
upon me...
...unexpected,
she enters.
Never did I invite anyone inside,
silence was my expression;
did I invent even her presence?
(my self is a culprit in a most
multitude of situations)
she approaches.
she whispers / cave replies with righteous
thunder, resonates with big, logical,
entirely scientific waves.
(and yet I know, she is a miracle.
'cause there is no entryway to my cave)
She admires the smooth flow of stalactites
and takes a dip in my pool...
she is unafraid.
Perhaps I should go forward and meet her,
because she is present in my future,
in my life in the glorious future - she is inside there already.
And nothing matters any more.
...the shape of the heart is the indented circle,
the bland, smooth ideal
violated
by the persistent influence
of
love.
@ February, 2005
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