Rest and rise, and return, to me.
I am the beloved and I welcome thee
I am the scarlet hall of your deepest quivers
I am the lonesome song of your heart’s secret shivers
I am the restitution
I am the grace
I am the windsong
That falls on your face
Bear with me, and resist me not
For I am the deep current which abides to none other
The chasm of love song sung from long under
The rhythm, the movement, the sweet carressed flyer
The mother, the lover, the Venusian fire
I rest not, I fear not, I forsake no-one yonder
For I am the keeper of all that is somber
I wake you, I shake you
I rattle your snakebite
I lick you, I flick you
I leave you with hindsight
I Whittle and chisel away at your life
Without me you are reckless, and secluded with schism
After, the loom-friend, the bird bath, the prism
I take you, I knead you, I press you into oil
I sing out to you, I lead you, I return you to the soil
The Scarlet Rose, the keeper of all
The Harlequin’s destination
The cure from the fall
weep not, resist not
as you read these lines,
the threads of the un-spoken
to be rewoven throughout your spine...
The resolution, the magic, the fire of life
The only recipe for creation that will keep you from strife.
The resiliency of remembering,
the far fledgling bird
Sent quite a long way to soar on the word.
~Arkana Rose