Now the soul has Colours

Sometimes the winds passes by
      slowly twirling my thought;
Sometimes the rain kisses my cheeks,
drenching me in the stupor of tingling brooks;
And Yet sometimes, the darkness enfolds
and engulfs me in its warm cloak  
Keeps me safe and rests awhile
      
Turn the cheek,
the shade of the tree glistens on her lips  
Turn the shell, the cockles burn into my brain  
I sup easily and slowly,
the chewing , the rumblings I yearn for
      Slowly the ascent into the sliding escarpment,
scrambling and struggling, little ants with
big pieces , motivators for the unknown      

I am a Rock,
immutable till
that little brook came along
and whittled away,
drip by drip, drop by drop,
that crimson flow, the fetid air, that rank desire
        
Captured and taken,
riven and wrought in bonds of light
and bonds of dark,

Cataclysms, the thrumming strings
      Alone at last      
No not so, as they melded before they,
arose
      Renewed