We Shall Meet in the Temple of Silence
A poem by Xenia Sunic
In the temple of silence
We shall meet one day,
When winter starts fading away,
And the weary stars
Fall on the grass,
And turn into yellow primroses—
Heavy with cold spring silver dew,
Imbued, with the pale mystery
Of the moon that moves
Into the remotest corners
Of the living roots—in the dark earth;
That blooms with the early spring flowers
Whose strange sweet scent,
Reminiscent of winter’s death,
Springs into new life’s creation
In the unusual morning twilight,
When the pregnant, pink moon starts waning,
Under her white lace covered face.
Intoxicated with night’s love,
She vibrates her passionate flow of tenderness,
Through gleaming river of stars;
And discloses her naked beauty
To the rousing sun
In the temple of silence;
Where the new spring is being born,
In magic sun cycles-
And Mnemosyne enters,
With wreath of wild flowers
On the wings of Northern wind,
And plays the music,
Of the lone wolf howling in the wilderness—
That echoes through the ancient memory
Of blood consciousness, and wild yearnings.
Posted by JTaverner on Sun, 17 Jun 2007 06:34 | #
two-hundred thousand years
eight-thousand generations
from dark lands escaped, forged aggregation
but with pity, pity lost
and progeny, bloodline disposed
a self retrograde, death throw
yawn at dusk, angry shades climbing
future minds
commence murmur
the corona gone under bare timber
come asia, new master!
weep at the wake
awe at our disaster