ODE TO THE BIRDS OF THE NIGHT
Today, my odes to the birds of the night are past.
A drowsy numbness no longer dulls my sense.
The hemlock has honeyed, awakened,
Harmony stirring in a cup.
I feel a skylark in the eyes of your sky
Blue reigns through the haze again,
The temple strides the fork in the road
Asking the will of the way.
Oh, I want to feel the arrows of your rays
transmuting the air into an aria of winged saints,
To feel the brush of your breeze
Turning a stone into velvet.
I want to live in your Garden
full of knowledge most refuse to pick
because they are afraid to taste the pomegranate
or a seed they fear will grow.
Oh yes, I have tasted your fruit
And it is fine,
Sweet, tender meat,
Breathe your warmth into my breast
And I will rise like wheat
To meet your dulcet fidelity.
I will be a willow to passing storms,
Real or imaginary,
Your whisper, my shield.
I will love love as you love love.
Delve into the treasury of captured dreams.
The sun removes the veil of the moon,
You guide my words on a chariot of stars
To the nave of your fragrant ripening.
I will sing odes to Your wings.
© ARICA HILTON 2003