She flies while sitting still.
She soars while others bemoan the world's woes.
Her soul expands to fill the Universe at a moment's notice.
Her world is Light that feeds the poet's page,
sings symphonies, thrusts color, line and form
onto canvas or into thin air.
Need we add she is misunderstood?
Her ideas are too far-reaching, too ahead of time?
She lives in no time, in no space.
She dances with angels.
She embraces her love, Christ within.
She is awash in sacred joy,
a befuddlement to every one she meets.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
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1 comment:
Were you writing this about me? Ha! Nice. You go girl. Josie
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