lotus tails

i hear authors blowing in the trees
i hear storytellers rolling on the sea
weaving gusts and waves with plots
out of thin air and misty spray
their whimsies dance and play
amalgam of plethoric polyglot

sometimes when i stand alight
upon the endless pier of night
and gaze upon the starry sky
voices as l’engle’s yalith did hear
within the song of night they steer
my eyes to collective soul descry

their voices form the coming flood
washing with love not with blood
coursing for thirty nychthemerae
that which was once enshrouded
becomes polished and enlightened
their tales entwined in tapestry

pond shimmers lilies rooted in mud
from shallows emerge pad and bud
each lotus blossom unfolds with glee
each frog’s call invoking ripples
gently decoding their lotus’ riddles
conveying volumes of budding stories

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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