The Silent Wisdom

kindra-waiting

The Silent Wisdom

Women, bringing with their bodies, a desire
To break each new resolution:
There is an ineffable magick
When eyes meet
And my aura senses
The air …..
I remember
How she walked along the crowded street
In Summer, her clothes keeping decency
The way their texture revealed her shape.
I remember her eyes, her face
Revealing a hope
Within

It does not seem to matter that she is older
Or younger than me
As it does not matter that I
Or she or we are bound by other memories
Born before that meeting when the moment became
The present imbued with the majesty of dreams
Perfumed by some god:
I am lost, in that moment, caught
By the spell of those eyes.
It is no simple lust, born of my flesh:
No simple desire, to enjoy.
There is instead a love:
A need answering the need of our eyes.
No reason explains, but all barriers seem broken
By the passion of bodies nakedly meeting
In bliss.

There is only my touch, my kiss, our voice.
I am no fool, mistaking my image for theirs –
They are real, different, and alive;
They teach me, have taught me,
That silent wisdom that often alas
Becomes hidden by lies:

There is much that is beautiful
But nothing that surpasses the beauty some women
Reveal
Through their eyes

 

[A poem by David Myatt]

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