“A hill, the symbols
Salvatore Quasimodo’s – ‘On the Island’
of time, the mirror of mind
continuous, motionless,
listening to themselves…”
free ranging and for the most part motionless mounds arise in a variety of vertical vestments we are drawn like magnets to magnificence worship the hush between rock and welkin elevate heights to climax with all the words and stones mind can muster - 'till the spirit stirs is moved to recite commandments prayers that go wayward with the wind the ascent of man began and ended here where the path peters out faith faltered forever on Golgotha hill but the birds fly higher still
Adding this morsel to Sunday’s Poetry Pantry
PoetryPix 