Two lovers rest together, melding skin
to skin, a sultry afternoon, and as we blink
they blink — we know each other
by our luminous sublimity.

Hovering angels speak through us
and that’s not all, they speak and then
they listen too as we smilingly reply —
we smile, nothing is said, exquisitely.

The lovers nod, they nudge each other,
it’s a God-lit swoon-time, it always is —
somehow we know that in the same way
lovers know, the way attending angels know.

We are that knowledge that cannot be spoken,
cannot be known, so we speak in tongues of lovers,
of angels, of hosts of divine light, in skin languages
with one derivation, one clear unbroken stream
of simple silent syllables, a sacred singing
prayer with no beginning or end.

We are this prayer of ourselves, a rare music
of remembering and forgetting, before lovers,
before angels, before any music came spinning,
spiraling out of that same incomprehensible
emptiness which birthed all life, all angelic
heart beats, all breathing, singing souls.



lion loves

About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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2 Responses to Prayer

  1. marcelvuijst says:

    Glad you are sharing some oldies. 😊

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