Lilac Soul
I breathed rumors of its fragrance
even before the purple bough
was shaken free and cut.
Beauty is effusive.
It travels like dust in a shaft of light
noticeable only in stillness.
Beauty floats, it swirls
it slides under locked doors
going undetected until we rest
then we see.
We are called. Not loudly.
Just a whisper is the invitation
to be free.
What holds us back?
Are we brave enough to
step out of our castles
and cocoons, our frayed
and wearied selves?
If we manage that, then what?
Will we be brave enough to dance
like sweet blossoms aswirl
in the sweep of unbound joy?
Our old selves will dissolve.
Hair, clothing, everything will be
scented lilac. We become new
again.
The edge of life is the end of fear
and the beginning of
everything good.
The white flag washes over us.
We are left holding the sunburst.
Empty. Open. Gorgeous in the light.
