Opener of Mists
Opener of mists in
my mind’s veiling cloud
The sharp
piercing swiftlight falls as a magnet
Touching,
drawing, pulling from my depths
Every buried passion
for the altering heartache
The sweetest
part of the far-wine and my all
From the
beginning the desire, from the first day
Of dawning, insistent
its call traversing every age
Passing through
every wall this opener of shafts
Parting, cleaving
my pre-structured blindness
Beauty slays the
broken heart as its healer
Teaching,
instructing, pulling from my depths
Every buried
passion for the altering heartache
The sweetest
part of the far-wine and my all
From the
beginning the yearning, from before
The foundation
of the world, its invincible forming
Roaming every
fabrication of man
Seeping through
his every fabled story
Opener of the awakening
in his waxed-gross heart
Twoedged, the sword
spares no self-hurting deceit
As its turner thinning
the inner streams of its forming
Gentle, kind, pulling
from the depths
Every buried
passion for the altering heartache
The sweetest
part of the far-wine and our all
Through every
noble heart, that ever was or will be
The secret glorious
yearning and its silent quest
Intrinsic the
desire, ever existing ever present its fire
Even before the
fall it was forming . . .
It is gathering strength
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