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  Wings of Light
99522 Poems Read
Council of Stars
If you don't believe in miracles,
then you've never heard
the hiss and crackle of eons
or seen the color of stillness
between the rage
or felt more than one
universe watching you through
rambling, holy eyes.
I found them
in their place of comfort,
their dreamless, beating drums
all around
and I knew what magic was,
and I knew my sacred mission
was to do nothing
all night
and be dazzled,
and of course,
I could only get it right, so
I said: here,
here are the branches that
lead to the ceiling of
chattering light,
here are the two moons
that are the raccoon's eyes
in the dark, and here
are the voices from the
book of the beyond—
some delicate tirades,
priestly fits,
a few crystal proverbs
I can put away
for tomorrow's pain,
and here is the wealth
the world hasn't stolen yet.
Sprinkle of millennia,
flock of stars streaking
through my one pure moment,
you are just words and
the blinding heart
of everything,
and in this space so close
to all the answers,
you are everything
I need.
Patricia Joan Jones
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©2000 - 2002 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.
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