Let your imagination dream with the beauty of the Earth breathing the breeze coming of spring. Let your soul fly in search of peace. Let love in your heart. Let the hope to be your star. Let peace invades your life.
Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I? Can't fly, can't run and see how slowly I walk. Well, I think, I can read books. "What's that you're doing?" the green-headed fly shouts as it buzzes past. I close the book. Well, I can write down words, like these, softly. "What's that you're doing?" whispers the wind, pausing in a heap just outside the window. Give me a little time, I say back to its staring, silver face. It doesn't happen all of a sudden, you know. "Doesn't it?" says the wind, and breaks open, releasing distillation of blue iris. And my heart panics not to be, as I long to be, the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle.
* * *
- Mary Oliver from her book of poems, "BLUE IRIS" Artist ~ Gelena Pavlenko
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Let your imagination dream with the beauty of the Earth breathing the breeze coming of spring. Let your soul fly in search of peace. Let love in your heart. Let the hope to be your star. Let peace invades your life.
Blue Iris
by Luna Arjuna
Jan 17
Blue Iris
Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I?
Can't fly, can't run and see how slowly I walk.
Well, I think, I can read books.
"What's that you're doing?"
the green-headed fly shouts as it buzzes past.
I close the book.
Well, I can write down words, like these, softly.
"What's that you're doing?" whispers the wind, pausing
in a heap just outside the window.
Give me a little time, I say back to its staring, silver face.
It doesn't happen all of a sudden, you know.
"Doesn't it?" says the wind, and breaks open, releasing
distillation of blue iris.
And my heart panics not to be, as I long to be,
the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle.
* * *
- Mary Oliver from her book of poems, "BLUE IRIS"
Artist ~ Gelena Pavlenko