Olive Branches


flawless glass,

a wealth of translucent trembling foam,

bulging enigma;

ricocheting naught,

something, all together everything and  nothing

whirling whirlwind

Is it God? He cannot be seen

neither can she but-

she moves the dust to paint the world with its dirty shade, arouses tree leaves to trembling

gives nirvana dwellers push for flight

beckons the times

and summons all of life to follow her lead

she who cannot be touched  embraced, or captured

she who can only be felt,, her will bending only to her maker’s

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