Like Deja Vu

The feeling that you are experiencing
a feeling of mythical proportions;
You imagine that
you are leaning to kiss her
by a trellis in the warm blue afternoon
behind the white alabaster library,
for the first time.

The sense that this spot is sacred,
even with the angry cars on their lost road,
and the wandering poor,
this place is right with everything,
and that the sparrows and the apple blossoms
are little notes on an eternal sheet of music.

The recollection that you are apprehended by something
like a mother's sunlit eye
upon the gift she has been given,
and that eye holds you,
and everything is equally loved
and pain is only comparison.

The spreading of strength
through nerves, muscle and even bone,
the slight curl of toes
through your shoes as you walk,
balanced on the strong curve of the earth,
where you have been invited to grow.

Standing right next to yourself
with shock and compassion
at what is foolish and right with you,
or steeping the personality
of someone beside you
inside you, as a tea.