What more can be said, that

Poem inspired by the title of Rumi’s poetic masterpiece, “What was told, that.”

What more can be said that raises a faint blush on,
embers of wanting
smolder marmalade-like over a pair of brown eyes,
copacetic these clouds murmur
not a thought, not a kiss, nor a glance is forgotten–
your beauty akin to a cream rosebud,
to winter sunshine illuminating the trees.

What more can be said that molds the heart
with such strangeness,
the crescent itself seethes when I utter your name
and I, seeing through pretense smile
I plead pardon for having my breath perfumed—

Darkly whispering the underworld beckons,
I gaze upon the flowers pinned between rocks
sprouting deep purple,
the violet
being one to address blood consciousness.
To repudiate living darkness that exists in one’s soul
would be ideal,
I thought to myself as I rise from dreams unreal;
I bury my face in the wild storm of your being.

There is faith in the fog, I cannot see the ground
and yet
I tread further into the abyss of the unknown,
let lips decide the distance between us
love, I have witnessed many a February cold—
weave foolishness into my heart;

it’s perfectly easy, every atom
belonging to me as good
belongs to you;
what more can be said that raises a faint blush on.



Photo credits: Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist: Underworld, crescent, seethe, faint,
sunshine, foolish 💝

Posted on Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

& Posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub