Return, my soul, to your rest,
for the Lord has looked after you.
Psalm 114
I am in love,
again,
with the
descending flux:
smoldering shades of burnt-bronze, saffron-
gold, orange-spice, and crimson
curling through
the dusky air
before they come to settle their fires
and lay to rest their multitudes,
burnishing with ember light
the prayer lamps of saints,
at last.
Ooooh....so, so lovely.
ReplyDeleteCynthia, the last lines of this piece are intriguing - "the prayer lamps of saints/at last" - mystical. It resonates and the poem stays with the reader. All the "smokey" words work well together: fire, flux, smoldering, burnt, dusky, burnishing, ember. The "decending flux" is synonymous with the title. Thank you for sharing this moment...
ReplyDeleteThank you for your effort, once again, to look deeply into the poem. Your noticing is so insightful. I love how you read and see a work. These days are bringing with them the poems. So grateful for the beauty of God, for you, dear friend!!!
Deleteentrancing!
ReplyDeleteThank you Allison!! So glad you stopped by!!! God Bless..
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