Dreaming

I am thinking about that thing which happened in the past.

When the roses fell from the altar.

Melting snow was touching his lips.

In the infinite softness of white.

Petals lying there down, inviting the scent.

Inviting hands to bless.

Asking and praying for blue birds.

Ascending towards angelic chariots.

Pulsing in the wind of supreeme.

Crying from the joy of liberation.

Diadems of sacred union in his palm.

Rising and melting in Grace invisible.

Not for all…yet leaves remember.

As they dance to the descant of love.