This Website is designed for the Firefox web browser. Any visual problems, please click above and download our browser of choice!
The Earth Folk
What if we
Are lives like shadows
What if our emotions are thin reflections
And behind our
Pretentious humanity
The elemental spirits live
Passionate
Stronger, uncannily
More resolute
A primal honesty
At work in their
Luminous intercourse
And they are bells
And we are ringing
Moving on
More distant hills
Forgetting
Songs that their lips keep pliant
What if we are but
Pale before their brighter
Faces
And lacking in love
Before the way they kiss
Everything
And embrace all changes
Passionate
Sensitive, so
Beautiful
And they are
Immortal watchers
Watching us
And we, the homo sapiens
Are breaking
We are lonely
David Sparenberg
NATIVE SENSES
The expression
of the beautiful genius
opens like a wordless
rose
and clothes us
in the fumes
of paradise.
Somehow
when we are
listening to the wings
of crows and the
tender melodies
of elfin butterflies
we feel embraced
by the breath
of angels.
Beating
so softly, so
delicate-sweet that
velvet on a virgin’s
skin
might touch us
with an offering.
Though
we are there, out
in that other place
the familiar cup
of a summer’s rose
rises
from this ground
to kiss us
with the miracle
of its pouring passions.
And
we are downed
supine
into the common
haunting symbolum
of earth’s
dense mystery.
Though
not a single
word has swollen
to the lips
like a cherry
freshly swollen,
but the heavy
buzzing
of a working bee
lost
in the ecstasies
of pollen.
And
we are spellbound
and completer.
Like fruit.
Like garden.
author: David Sparenberg