and many dark strands like veins that are seen
when a wing is lifted up.
Your hidden self is blood in those, those veins
that are lute strings that make ocean music,
not the sad edge of surf,
but the sound of no shore.
Pivot Point--Where a poem's imagery germinates like a seed, budding, blossoming, then bearing the ripe artistic and meditative fruit from many years of silent reflection. Pivot Point--When our own expanding consciousness breaks through to a vaster dimension, and we realize this spiritual awakening is truly history's greater meaning, the birth throes of a new age.