nemophilist

Nemophilist

To rest amid the apple growth, and dream among their boughs,

And drift amongst the narcissi, in the most wondrous tidal hours;

To then float above the ancient ones, who see more than they tell?

And ponder on the tender earth:  where heartbeats are just felt.

 
To think about the enormous silence, that is heavy and all around,

And wait awhile, in flickering sunlight, of a blue misty evening hour;

To drink in the scent of the butterflies as they so gently lift and flit,

And near listen to the lost birdsong, that raises my -so lonely- spirit. 

It’s here I sit t it’s here rest it’s here that I so gladly split my shell  

The nemophilist  I am is caught by this Gods so sacred magic spell;

So I reach out, to hold your hand, in the twilight of this magic hour,

In the hope you’ll reach for mine, so we can make this time just ours.

Gone are the tools that make up man: the gadgets that make us safe.

Gone are the bricks, the walls and the mortars, that make the earth quake.

Gone are the rushing, screaming cars that have no real time to dwell

Gone are systems that have been set up, to make a form of human hell.

It’s in the present  and in the moment  that our souls slowly start to mesh,

Around the glimmering stars, that gather in the night, as it slowly starts to flesh.

And as I rest here –snuggling-  looking up and feeling just so fucking fine

While holding  you close, another haunter of the woods, how  we so slowly entwine.

There is no time here… its forever.

 © adh 2014