Stark, naked, the long cold night of winter
Draws my will to live in shapes
Whose beauty lies in number,
Unseen to hands that touch
My rough and dusty bark…
———-
The limit of life is my companion
As pale sun begins to feed
Across the stellar miles
And seeks – within the rough
And blackened frame –
The tiny hiss of sap.
———-
My roots, abused but warm
–though not to you,
Are wed in size to what is yet to come.
A sphere of growth so dense
That acres were required
To lay its workings level.
———-
Turn, shrink and turn again
My mantra to the burrowing sun
His breath, my thrust, as space is filled
With longing maps of future green
And laughter – unheard by man
Ghosts our dance, impossibly tactile
Whose hidden name is fractal.
———-
©Stephen Tanham 2024
All photos taken and processed on an iPhone 12 ProMax.
Stephen Tanham is a writer-photographer and mystical teacher. He is the founding Director of the Silent Eye, which offers a journey of the soul guided by lessons, inner guidance and outer companionship.
There are two blog streams:
(mystically-oriented writing)
and
(general interest, poetry, humour and travel)