Second Avatar, Eight

Earl Pascoe,
That Special Dame

She rises in the room, and all eyes gather

Within her aromatic gait, her eyes

Draw light, and mind, heart, soul: these hopefuls rather

Her fragrant spaces to the azure skies.

We lock together here inside her sphere

To kneel, look, pray inside this temple room;

We see ourselves through her; as she comes near,

We melt within the warmth of her perfume.

Her room grows larger now, all spaces blocked

Within a floor where ceilings lose their lines,

With metaphysics and the heart unlocked,

Where space, speed, love ignore the standard signs.

There is no doubt that she’s that special dame

In whom we live, dream, breathing in her name.