It is in the promise of solitude
that nenuphars gather
To make a pond where in white and
silver, they hold inside
The fear of the secret tremble which
their nights cover in pain
While the courtesy of time holds the
sand stones apart
To form a bridge where wild thyme
abound
To clean the exhale of evening airs
whirling like a Sufi dance
When the wind is from the North or
when the young frogs jig and lance
As they once did, from drifting
nenuphar to drifting nenuphar
Since the promise was enchanted, yet
cold as the spring of love
Secret as its seasons, lonesome as
its embrace
For love was a pond upon which
the shadow of time had fallen
From the bridge, covered in thyme,
holding on to the passage in vain
Near that pond, a new promise
whispers to all water lily
To gather while drifting aimlessly
to other nenuphars
For a short while, wandering with
the North breeze
And now painless
May 16, 2014
© Vahé A. Kazandjian
I took this picture in Tainan City,
Taiwan, during a walk at sunrise
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