The lake is my sword
Cutting through life’s flagrant nonsense
Slashing its tawny leathered wrists
Spilling red sunset all about
At my side all night long
She beckons, begs, congeals a new reality–
One where purpose finally follows breath
And grandiose dreams fall aslumber–
Mere dormant volcanoes
Quieted by the watchful monks
On the flowered hillside
We must escape ourselves to find ourselves
So why not follow the lake’s hypnotic waves
Making us forget long enough to remember
the fleeting sunset, desperate scarlet flashes on the water
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Author: Don Iannone, D.Div.
Biography
Photographer, poet, teacher, complementary medicine provider, interfaith minister, and former economic developer. Holds a Doctorate in Divinity, Master of Divinity, Master of Mind-Body Medicine, and Bachelor of Arts degree in Anthropology. Clinical certifications in Reiki, guided meditation, life purpose coaching, and spiritual counseling. Author of 12 books, including two new books in the contemporary spirituality field. Learn more here.
Contact Information
Contact Don Iannone by email: diannone@gmail.com
View all posts by Don Iannone, D.Div.
Poetic Alchemist 
Enjoy coming back with reading your latest
Yessir! A new one! And a fine one at that! Thanks, Don!