I lift my heart up to creative love,
along with eyes and head, and hands as well,
as way of here acknowledging the dove
who symbolises your sweet signs that dwell
upon this Earth, as our connections here
are kind of like black-crows might over-head
announce our movements, stealth cannot be sheer,
or else it's by this partnership, now dead.
I see your plans are stealthier than ours,
I see you take your time. You do not rush.
You’ll play the incognito game for hours,
or centuries, millennia. Not much
according to your life, that made up time
to give a sense of something metered here:
for stories and for music these sublime
communicators to right hemisphere
perceptions to be able to gain ground,
have purchase to be using metaphor
and symbol, that our whole life might be found
to be symbolic of a spirit or
intension, with capacity as well;
the purpose that is personal and good,
particul’rised in people who might dwell
together here, as hive, school, flock, or hood.
But also, as that dove then threw him out
as gauntlet to the chaos forces which
are likely to recede again, and pout
untill they see their time to screech their pitch.
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