Wings of Inspiration
Transitory wings of white and gold,
beauty in flight and rivers in motion,
doors swinging open for the pure air,
clarity speaking in a familiar tongue,
divinity opening up its heart,
sending secrets through the skies,
the birth of the planets,
the texture of the rings of Saturn,
how it feels against the skin,
writing them down and
attaching them to the wings of the doves,
circling above with their eyes wide open,
purifying the air above the chimneys,
breathing in the aroma of the jasmine,
keeping love pure on its earthly journey,
the knowledge of its divine source,
how it flows through winding rivers,
why it ends up in certain places
answering spiritual needs
or landing upon insensitive surfaces,
how it materializes in certain objects,
how it invigorates the spirit
of some but not in all,
how it gives life to a song, or poem,
or speaks through a rainbow, or the eyes of a woman,
how it teases the mind and
rides up and down the electric
spine,
taking the spirit on a merry romp,
smiling, laughing, playing, crying,
riding to the ends of passion,
then flying back to that
wonderful place where it came from
too soon, too fast, too impatiently,
too abrupt, too detached,
but with its taste still in our hearts.
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