I speak into the walls, the dirt, the wind
that rises off the prairie, small noises
distorted by the earth’s arc. What reaches you
bears no likeness to the benevolence

I cradle like a fallen star. Never are my words
the alar emissaries they might be.
Instead they take the air as taloned things,
look to light upon the softest place.

Silence suits me best. In its white dome
my voice is snowfall on the water.
And you are there,cupped hands lifted,
the taste of sweetness on your lips.

Absolutely beautiful, Dale. One small thought - perhaps 'earth's arch' might suit (rather than 'arc'). Whatever, this must be a pick.

milner

Yes lovely

Thanks

e

Your work just moves me to gorgeous places and feelings -- lovely and beautiful, Dale.

lynn

A very fine poem, Dale!
Vasile

Dale, my favorite section:

"What reaches you
bears no likeness to the benevolence

I cradle like a fallen star. Never are my words
the alar emissaries they might be.
Instead they take the air as taloned things,
look to light upon the softest place. "


Excellent -  xo M

Lovely lyric!  I bet you were forgiven for your sharp remarks.

Rick

You sing, Dale, and with what a voice!

milner

Thank you all so much. It is such an impossible desire... to be understood, but one I cannot let go.
I so appreciate your kind remarks.
take care~dale

mmm much enjoyed the flow of your words


Stella

Many thanks, Stella.
take care~dale

Dear Dale

I enjoy your serenity.

a warm smile
silent lotus

Thank you, Lotus. your kind words are a balm.

Desiree~ Thank you for this most unexpected bump.

take care ~dale

it is profound truth, what you say here...our words are always talons, no matter the love behind them, because, by their nature, they narrow the aperture thru which the understanding would pass...but silence speaks from all the points of light, without restriction, in the fulness of perfect freedom...

michael

Lovely piece.