flowers of light

i tried to write the poem
but my hands did not work
for they knew not the passages to write
i tried to see the words to write
but my eyes grew dim
and could not see the words
the mind it knew so many things
i suppose
but when it came to writing the poem
it did not know anything
it was quiet
and then what flowed was of itself
like a divine river of love
like the wings of angels
and the silence of God
it writes itself
and though the eyes see it coming out
there is no one that writes
it writes itself

she is still
forever still
and graces the world with stillness
and puts stillness in you
she makes herself beautiful in stillness
fresh as the first winter snow
fresh as the earth tended to with care
fresh as the dove lit on the branch
in the moonlight
fresh as love rich in heart
fresh as life with no boundaries
fresh as life with no suffering
fresh as life without shadow
she is the beautiful one
dressed in stillness only
dressed in primal being
dressed in primal oneness
dressed in primal singular oneness
how she lives so joyous
she brings
flowers of light to you now dear one
like presents of heart
take them now
and have this joy too
she brings such gifts of heart