Rounded in the ways of life

Cowslips grow along a winding-woodland stream
In this here amphitheater they’re all that’s left
Too show me its spring that I’m not alone in the arc
Too show me there is light in my heart that’s not all dark
Too show me it’s not just a cold, selfish, blaspheme
That I should feel so empty and crazy and bereft.

These here cowslips were once like stars a part of me
Smooth soft stones; rudimentarily, chosen!
For earth; rounded in the ways of life, they became
Part of me! Their feet in crystals of quiet ice; made claim?
I impugned ahead the flowing dream, wintery…
Dreams that if I Could I would, dream unfrozen.

Were they gone I never chased or followed…
They slipped beneath the ground and were swallowed!
I walked in search past the sullen woodland pool
Whose prism mirror was more mystically in tune?
Its purple depths were only ankle depth shallow
But its reach was to my soul more than a shadow.

And cold as it seems I felt myself here at home
Looking halve crazed into its watery loam
I wish to see its waters move from the stillest thought!
I gazed for fish and still there was but naught!
No echo of life discerned in its face
Would speak with me, but its presence shone a holy place.
The lore I followed without a footprint trace…