Devlyn Young       [ Poem 1 | Poem 2 | Paintings ]

The taste
and texture of light
depends upon intent,
like greens
in grass or rainbow
can differ in focus and bent:
the tast herbal blend,
steeped in the Arctic Sea
and drunk with a Faery friend.

Fingerprint
of mountain stream
in the breathing
of forest leaves
and mossy blankets –
a misty dream
of the western sea
in the earliest sunbeam,
in the song of crickets.

sunrise misting lifting
from eastern lake
quake rippling
across galactic starways
far aways you are
but i can touch your whisper
with a smile
and for a while
know your heart.

Where the mind wanders tonight,
I think the corridors have wandered more;
beyond all reasoning light,
beyond the last known and charted shore...
How strange the markings here,
as if- without thinking -I stepped too far;
beyond the end of the pier,
beyond the ledge and onto a neighboring star...
Would that I showed you the way,
and you followed for naught but love of me;
I wonder what you might say,
if I said that I'd followed a bumblebee.

by Devlyn Young