TRACINGS ON PARCHMENT

TRACINGS ON PARCHMENT

Night descends, from mountaintops,
The earth is calm the air stands still,
Velvet silence cloaks the land,
A gaze directed on yonder hill.

Through the quietly falling eventide,
Softly, not to waken the drowsy dew,
The wind carries a memory fresh,
A voice comes down, floating through.

Deeply surrounding, the purple light,
Its resonance, the waiting familiar with,
Rich like molten gold it pours,
Over dreams, lore and ancient myth.

Standing peaceful, eyes fixed above,
Clothed in mist of crushed white silk,
Hearing the tone, the pitch, the call,
Bathed in moonlight, waterfalls of milk.

Arms of eternity enclose, a cradle form,
Holding close, elemental need, loved so much,
The warmth of knowing, the want disclosed,
A caresses, a stroke, a hand.. your touch.

~Sujata~

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