Time is a season.
A heart would wake one day
from its deep sleep.
A mountain would rise.
A seed is a potential that will wait,
for its time, and its beginnings, and its changes
and its chances.
enfolded by glory
nested by angels
bathed in the light
warm in the ghostlight
covered in roses,
kisses and teardrops
nurtured by holy ones
sheltered by seraphim,
rides the soul
on its long journey in time
(but resides still here)
as it goes and goes
deeper and deeper
and deeper.
Heart is a flower opening and opening, again and again,
season after season, time upon time,
forever and ever
letting go.
Amen