out beyond ideas by Indigo TempestaOut beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn't make any sense.
-Rumi
In his pool of skin a surface-tension bore scatters of melanin like the browned-out lips of dogwoods. Like the sun set right into that fawn cheek and sheer eye.
I could taste his sweat in the neck of my bottle when the lime hissed as it dropped;
I could see him rising in the pearls of various night sky bodies;
I could feel his pulse across the million frozen miles from star to star though he stretched beside me, sleeping brow nesting in my ribs--
I felt the breath in him given to buoy my heart- beat.
I met him in that field, too full to speak or even flutter the lips of the brown wet heart--
empty enough yet to know what had been recieved. 07/29/2004 Author's Note: thanks given to rumi and a new friend who is now far away.
definitely, criticism welcome.
Posted on 07/29/2004 Copyright © 2025 Indigo Tempesta
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Melissa Arel on 07/30/04 at 01:54 AM Every part of this poem is exquisite! Excellent read :) |
Posted by Max Bouillet on 08/16/04 at 02:03 PM A field for philosophers, theologists, and drunk lovers. All questing for a mystical experience but only very few actually find it. Great read! |
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