Metaphysical Poem
Soul Convention
by Silvia Hartmann
Snow is falling softly, insistently... At first it seemed as though it might surrender to the hurried steps of frozen feet and churning wooden wheels But it simply did not stop. Night came, and from the blue black sky the moth flakes fell and fluttered endlessly. So we retreated; and it really wasn’t so much a defeat as a submission, we took the opportunity to say, there’s nothing we can do, there’s nowhere left to be, but here. We lit a fire and assembled in the wooden sanctuary hall. Outside, the snow fell and in truth, we were so glad it had arrived to save us from ourselves. One by one, we found our place and settled down and listened to each other’s breathing and beyond that, silence white and living night, which soothed us – one by one, our burdens fell away and light as snow did we become, and drifted, danced and swirled, a mirror soul convention, happening just as it should.
© Silvia Hartmann 2004
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