I.
A most beauteous Canvas
Being painlessly obliterated
By Her artful frost
Scented with dissonant piano keys
That resound aloft

Oh, She was clad in the wind
Her fleeting dress of leaves, caressed
With the rest of Her memories 
The secrets She kept well within
For him

His desire ‘neath the cover of frost
Reanimated by Her necromancy
And that pariah who Her lover was
Now a ghost set to roam free
For now

Louder beats the silence of pre-storm
Devout sunbirds ride the wind
He follows, unwillingly at first
In hope to quench his need
For knowledge

He’s determined to resist
 
Falling yet standing still
He’s bound to Her will
The birds are far now
Nigh-unseen

For She was clad in the wind
Her bright-red pendant of passion
Glistened with his rain
Softly at Her bosom’s sway

His resistance falters

Then again…
Light reveals the specks of lust
Even in monasteries

He wonders why…

She was clad in the wind
In breeze and in tempest
In all that may sweep away
The reason of the wise

Her beauty’s but a mirror
Of his own solitude
Clearer now than a crystal pond
Evoked by a distant sound
The calling of…

II.
Oh, the ceaseless question, at last

“Oneness or difference?” echoed in his mind.

“And,” murmured back the wind.

His weary eyelids closed at once.

Thus She has shown the seas and the shores
That pity and joy are seasons abhorred
Such fleeting emotions — all devoured
So lest thunder roar and strike heaven’s dawn
The sunbirds coalesced
With the emerald-tide