Ah, the curtain,
I see it hiding your deep
visceral emotion,
a genuine empathy
of your heart’s unseen
but for now
stranded notions.
The voice of Love
gently flies over the waters,
gently sounds on the strand,
gently fills the sky
and lifts its darkness.
I smell the rain,
its freshness,
not a flood
but gently pouring.
O little love-bird,
let Love winged
still your unrest
that toils to weave
a warm nest
waiting,
waiting on the sand,
yet waiting
in its gloom of love consumed.
From the deep sources of your mood
see the clouds moving,
see a ribbon of blue sky shining through!
Dear heart! What is the silent torment,
what makes you pining?
Little one, shake your feathers
and join the skylark's upward rising!
