The Liquid Sun

Beauty is a wound of joy these bright hollows these low branches betray their origins of clay sparkling waters wash over my grief knowing waters tutor me time skims their surface deep echoes of the past tattooed by rains and arrows of grace Beauty is a wound of love clouds mimic bodies holding in desire then yield to the pressure of release nature’s law bows before Eros it tears away the tissue of the sky it penetrates the spheres of heaven searching for their hidden core Beauty is a wound of God spilling into mountains and seas writing transcendence into everything made from breath exhaust its possibilities drain the face on the waters into this freshly turned chalice it contains your paradise flowing through vineyards and olive groves sacrificed in silence to the liquid sun