The Doors of Midsummer
The Doors of Midsummer
A breath of cloud moves east across Y Garn’s face.
Words are as scarce as swallows in a cold summer.
Anyway, anyway, they only grow from dream to tangled lie,
flowering like the bindweed covering all beneath,
Weighing down, weighing down until nothing else remains.
The doors have opened in every hill,
An invitation to join the dance and summer’s feast.
But we are taught to doubt generosity,
To look for the trap in openness and goodness
(nothing is true that comes so free and easy).
River and clouds are the rulers of this world
and they move on in their own time, unbidden.
Tune to a key that sings of endlessness, even though
no one here knows anything of that song.
For emotion is born from time and loss:
In timeless halls is no such thing.
No such thing but endless dance and bliss.
If…
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Posted on August 13, 2019, in Poem - Not Written By Me Though, Poetry, Reposted from elsewhere. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.
Ben Naga 
“For emotion is born from time and loss:
In timeless halls is no such thing.
No such thing but endless dance and bliss.”
Here’s to residing within those HALLS Ben.. 🙂 ❤
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Hmm. If I recall my folk lore correctly there can be a heavy cost to pay for the privilege and the story is meant to serve as a warning. (Ha! I just noticed/realised that ‘bliss’ is very close to ‘bills’.)
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Haha…. well Bliss if definitely more preferred than Bills.. 🙂
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Oh definitely! 😀 😀 😀
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