Ingrown Soul  

In the fields harks an angel that beautifully sings.
Shadows prance in a wondrous joy she brings.

The sky is at awe and the Moon gleams down.
She watches so many falling onto the ground.

She splits the seconds and multiplies days.
She is simply a sensuous seasonal phase.

She blows a brand new breath,
And does away with clingy death!

Conditioned by her endurance she shields the light.
Darkness befalls and condenses itself out of sight.

Bewildered or mesmerized her shields strike out.
And then she hears him with his heavenly shout.

It is a day and a night but a breath all the same.
Echoes and vibrations carry the tone of a name.

Spinning in space a multitude came and went.
There were even a few messengers she sent.

She snuck through the harvest and collected his dust.
As she collected up collections, do or die was a must.

Spring forward or fall back became a daily task.
Hidden in disguise was her seasonal phased mask.

Great was the day and brilliant was the night she sang.
The trumpets blew and the horns let loose a big bang.

Jolly grand as rocks roll and up the hill un-folds her scroll.
Withered with dots specs you will find as an ingrown soul.  


© Copyright: Ann Rich   2007