The Joviality of the Coves

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As treasures kept in the watery depths,

Ripple and rise beneath the moon's own light,

What kind of musings,

May come alive and inspire flights of fancy,

(Winged, as are all divine delights)?

For, pearlescent upon the currents,

(And outlined by shadows

That scribe their tidings throughout the night)

Such grace is hard to measure

As Life's own libations

Pour themselves across the shores,

And splash into the windswept heights;

Lying in wait 'neath the impassioned lashing out

Of waves upon the yielding shores,

Rock-hewn tunnels now flow and funnel,

Many a fin to treasures stored;

For gleaming beneath the rivers' bend,

Silver fish may glisten,

As they swimmingly explore,

The mysteries descending without end,

Submerged and held in the Earths' own

Pock-marked, rocky pores,

Yes! It is not hard to imagine,

That such mysteries may come to life,

For it seems as though the soul of the very Earth,

(A treasure risen from beneath the surf),

Has appeared in a mermaids' leaping flight,

And although She is not quite a wight,

Still she may glow silver and alabaster white,

Or exude auras of rainbow moods,

Revolving in a pinwheels' streaks,

That spin in colorful, chromatic stripes;

Rising across the hills and knolls,

Like electricity through the shifting poles,

She dances beneath the windkissed heights!

And you may be surprised to find,

That Her silhouette is draped

& runed in, not only the Moon's,

But in your own, internal glowing light...

For if you should, also,

Imbibe such tidal writhing,

As may shiver in swells of sweet delight,

What joy would take its sublime shape,

If the world wreathed in wealth

Should reflect the essence of your own Self,

And give vibrant Life to all in sight?

Yes, it is true that such wonders may, indeed,

Be woven in your own roving whims,

As would take the lakes, and in surety make,

Them, an altar exalted in impassioned hymns;

For this feminine gem,

Within the coves so cloven in the ebbing spin,

Of tidal reveries,

Is romantic and as heavenly,

As the budding of all the greening limbs;

And you may spy that flower, who so scours,

The depths where stores of moonlight shines,

Near to heart, yet Her presence reaches

Towards the edge of sight so minute and fine,

For such a darling flower is ripe with power

As it shivers across Her own leyline spine!

For She is that feminine flower,

Whom you may know,

By the fragrance of the growing Earth,

Over which, even the Suns and Stars do pine,

Across the rooty fingers gloved by the shore

And its every eroding, stony, bind,

Indeed, such a visual flavor may be savored

By one who's eyes are so inclined,

To see such melons, fruits impelling,

Juice to drip as if by some unseen design,

As Her Sunday best, may give way to nakedness,

And grace the world in Her shapely lines;

And yet, in the Coupling of Earth and Radiance

Her nakedness may still be a garment dressed,

In Sunlit splendor, She terrestially tempers,

And renders as testaments to both

Timidity and tempest;

For, rising and roiling,

(If heat should spurn heartbeats

Beneath ones' breastplate boiling)

All things seen from East to West

Arise from Her womb of worldly wonders

Beneath Her boughclad bosom blessed!

Indeed, she is of the stormy knells,

And the crystal spring that sweetly swells,

And the bones on loam that arrange to tell,

A story of Lifes' changing tides,

The nubile beauty does abide so well;

And many stories, like Morning Glories,

May rise like vines and bloom to tell,

If such dawning light,

Sunlit, should awn in sight,

Of the Maiden and all Her psychedelic spells...

For but a sliver of her silhouette,

Is more silver than all the treasures kept

And as golden as the sunlit rays,

That stay within the dewy tears,

That in joy and sorrow She has wept;

And the finery of island pines,

May pale in comparison to what you might inspect,

If you should hear her stone throat groaning,

('cross the coves and upon the tides, intoning),

The voice of a mystical, matronly, adept!

Indeed, through the waters and tidal twists,

She will weave and wind such an intricate poem,

Beneath the resplendant wreathes of mist,

That garland the shore that she calls Her home;

For there, in the waterways, where the otters play,

In the joviality that enlightens loam,

Ebbing and tiding, Her humble power is providing,

Reverance She is inciting within your bones!

Yes, it is a flow,

In which you may be offered such a chance,

To grow likewise bright and beautiful,

Within the makings of a life as equally enchanted,

(As it is internally improved & externally enhanced)!

For, never forgetting,

That you are always abetting,

And abiding Her windswept chant,

All of Life comes to you,

To the rhythm of this Making,

(Compelling the steps you, yourself, are taking

In Lifes' revolving, exultant dance!);

As one may spy, the most high,

With eyes turned inside,

Their own arising story & tale!

Humble brews of everyday alchemy,

Could slosh in paper cups, yet be still be rendered

Humble, holy grails,

For, providing the background and the canvas,

For the meager, the miraculous, the strong and frail;

Such an enduring bliss has persisted,

From beyond the shale, the stone and every

Thinning, paling, earthly veil,

Yes, such an enduring bliss has,

Indeed, persisted,

And reveals itself to eyes once blind,

As the radiant fact of the magic,

(A pagentry of empathic, bliss),

Ascends into the evergreen climes;

And as surely as such electricity,

(Yielding a charge from Life's resplendant simplicity),

Shivers up your own, leylined, spine

The evergreen islands

Take on the appearance of Tors and pylons,

As timeless as anything,

Enduring from bygone ancient times;

And having been humbled by

The pounding pulse of thunder,

And struck by awe, as the midnight maw,

Is in the flash of lightning

Sundered,

Her body may be seen as a boundless bounty

Suited to sate all worldly hunger,

As windswept twitterings,

(And all things sweetening and embittering),

Flourish within this Earthen wonder;

Although her reaching gown,

May shed no sound,

As she softly tip-toes around,

All the song may strive to leap,

And so beautifully keep,

Time, to the tune that she expounds;

As birds are heard,

(In avian verse of their own words),

All across the leaf-tipped boughs;

And pine needles clothe her fetal children,

Grown within Her fertile mound;

And as tones of groaning timber,

Ring throughout bouts of Spring & iceswept winter,

The glacial graces surround the bases,

Of trunks now turned to poetic tinder;

For in the seasonal spin, of inspirations,

(As would inspire frigidity to melt,

And in glorious Sunlight, bask & simmer);

Such a flaring finger of fire has transpired

To beckon you forth,

As the past is turned to ash

And new growth blooms from what has withered;

As wild and as free as the treetop aeries

And all the humble roaming plains,

You may seem like the dancing Maiden might,

Nakedly revolving in Her own splendor,

Unabashed and unashamed;

For, perhaps you, too,

Would rejoice to dance through Life's expanse,

And reflect this Truth in beauty framed;

To likewise glow as sure as the Moonlit night,

Envelopes the very sky

And all things the passage of time has claimed;

Perhaps you'll see that you've grown as equally sagacious,

As you have become so spacious,

In the workings of this divine game;

As such pleasure grows to resplendant measure,

And gives meaning to all Life's growing pains;

Observing splendor (that the Spirit's tendered),

As it grows beyond recount of name;

For such a bounty you now see, flows as creativity

That only the unseen Source, inside, sustains;

Where the seen meets the unseen,

(And the seams are dreamed, and

Comprise but a veneer,

That's ever growing thin);

Indeed, all may enjoy,

As creativity and divinity,

Like water, merge and effortlessly blend;

For, like a bird that lights above that ocean,

(Where all tributaries meet their destined end),

One stretches wide,

While the other sings across its tides,

And telegraphs its telepathic whims;

Indeed, these winds, as well as frothing waters,

Govern the daring of all seafaring vessels and ships,

Sending us roaming across the seafoam, intoning

Revelations!

That froth across the tossing tides,

As soon as they leave our love-laden lips;

For now, as we see

The world through such a spyglass,

(Where the lens is unbiased,

And, pious, perceives each and every tint),

We, seeing seafarers,

Have become mysteriously mirrored,

Where Earths' flowering gown, falls down,

And all is absolved in a presence,

As intrinsic as it is Sunlit;

Ungirdling fertile spurts of creativity,

Eager to root and find their home,

Yes, the wind has woven its timeless prose,

As sure as water is our own blood,

And our bones, the kin of mineral and stone;

And in this roaming rousing,

(Unloosing from within our human housing,

All, that, has begged to be revealed and shown!)

We have shed our skins, revealing kin

In all sons and daughters, as resplendantly unnamed,

(As they are spiritually unclothed);

Where higher desires naturally transpire,

Throughout Earths' Forest floors and unroofed abode,

The connection between you, yourself, and all described,

May become more than metaphor,

But be experientially seen & known!

For as Her waters shine with starfire,

(And feminine fertility is accentuated

With a masculine solar overtone),

You may rejoice in the baring of such naked secrets,

Whilst, cradled against the bosom of She,

Both the nubile Maiden and ancient Crone...

Joshua Fuller

2023-06-08T21:38:04.81