Cobweb Whispers by richard lynn livesay

“O, for a draught of vintage! That hath been

Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful  Hippocrene*,

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stained mouth;

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim”:…John Keats

,*Hippocrene:

( a spring on Mount Helicon sacred to the Muses and regarded  as a source of poetic inspiration)

Cobweb Whispers

Trickling shadows on fallen leaves

Leaves that gave their lives for Spring

Spring unconsciously in the breeze

Breeze blows clouds into my sleep

My mind tumbles like a landslide

Breaking into flames of rivers deep

Deep within the human psyche dwells

A resonance, calling us to come home

To the primeval forest to rest our souls

Souls like lost streams in eternal time

Torn apart from their source to meander

Like the wandering thoughts of our minds

Minds that think they are and become self-aware

I am, I think and the definition becomes subjective

But the three-way attachment is lost somewhere

Somewhere between the mind-body-spirit is balance

A neutral spark of truth that is pure being and knowing

And at night the forest sleeps, dreaming in still silence