The Image
Who is this who comes us
within the shadowy arboretum of soul?
Who waters those roots with tears,
revives with ardent longings,
until She appears on the periphery
of mind, to claim our thoughts
as Her own?
A cosmos must explode
into light,
only then do we know
how to make love
to an image,
knowing we are the mirrors.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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