The Milkwhite Magic

Aug 22

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THE MILKWHITE MAGIC

The rolling mist obscured the shards of glass
Barefoot they tiptoed toward each other
Drawn on by cries of pain

In the right hand
Each held one half
Of a passport to the sun

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on August 22, 2013, in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 18 Comments.

  1. Randall | October 16, 2011 at 9:59 pm

    Mysteriously delightful.

    Liked by 1 person

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  2. Red | August 22, 2013 at 3:51 pm

    I can second that!

    Liked by 1 person

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  3. Bella | August 22, 2013 at 5:34 pm

    I will third that! What a lovely image, did u take that yourself?

    Liked by 1 person

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  4. skyraftwanderer | August 23, 2013 at 12:22 am

    Sublime.

    and great choice of artwork as well. fits just right.

    Liked by 1 person

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  5. adeeyoyo | August 24, 2013 at 10:01 am

    How poetic, Ben! I often wonder what percentage of people do find love that lasts. Or do they just fall into the habit?

    Liked by 1 person

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    • Ben Naga | August 25, 2013 at 8:58 am

      My own experience is that there has to be some pain if you want some passion, and that while love can indeed endure, the waters become less turbulent with the years.

      Like

      Reply
  6. Francina | September 17, 2013 at 9:53 am

    super , simply super poem , Ben. I love it 🙂
    groetjes, Francina

    Liked by 1 person

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  8. Weronika Donovan | October 23, 2019 at 7:40 pm

    Wow… I mean, this was beautiful.
    And the picture. I love it!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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