The Sisters / by Zander Ford

Truth took my hand

Guided me down rivers

Of delusional temptresses

 

She had a firm grip

On my pulsing wrist

Wriggling to be free

 

She showed me suffering

Villages of modern and ancient man

Human pangs of death

Of hunger

Of desire

 

And finally

She showed me at the delta

Approaching my personal

Ocean of limitless stillness

 

Her sister,

Beauty

 

Truth passed my

Being

Onward to her sister’s

Winged care

 

Lifted

Beyond comprehension

We rose

Above

 

She gathered me up

Swaddled in her

Downey warmth of heart

 

She cooed to my

Quivering ears

Evangelical notes.

Strung pearls woven

Upon wave-shapen

Cumulus cloud piles

 

Below

The delta

The river within

Colored

A different sort of light

A different sense of thought

 

Where human suffering

Was met

With love

With knowing

 

Beauty

She said:

“My sister, Truth...”

As she paused

With an infinite breath

Eternally echoing

earned wisdom...

“She told me, to take care of you,

In my soft Embrace.”

 

And I thanked,

Their Mother

 

For Her

Love.