When the white bends
it falls so far
so deeply from
the Bright, its’ Star.
Alone it keeps
it’s darkened plight.
The flower weeps.
It lives in night.
It grasps, it seeks
it needs, it keeps…
the flower’s Light,
Its Lover sleeps.
What Breath to press
upon such need,
to bend the true
Love’s budding feed?
Come breathe, come flow,
vein open, all to go.
This bending aching
Light’s retraction
needs the full and due
of Love extraction.
Come, the breathing,
come, the air.
Come this bright’s
it calls despair.
Beauty pressing,
naked petals.
All the longing lives between.
Leave the bending, unrelenting
founded folded to now to be seen.
Let the way
that touched the air
and found it fair
return to light, repeal, repent
Oh, Bright…just dare.
The white must blossom
Take the day
No other bend
may shape the way
Come anywhere,
come as before
come with no tear,
come with no war.
Bring all the Bright,
all seen between,
send each as true
in thy Brightened Being
Bend the Light now redeemed,
forsaken from the Love Ravine.
©2012 Linda Willows
Photograph by Piet Flour
The BELOVED 