Once you run into a morning honeyed meadow,
Into the middle of the summer, bursting in it's peak,
That sinks into the world with sky-face of a mead owl, -
Just stop in there and catch what world intends to speak.
Let your one hand grab some curvy cotton clouds
And the other one - that shallow river flowing sigh.
This is the time when you're free to feel the life around
And pounds within your body, rushing through the veins inside.
The foggy scarf is still on sleepy forest shoulders,
As breath of waking up daylight is born to make you daze.
How many treasures wait outside your borders,
How many you still keep not daring to gaze.
Just sense the magic of the living, charming mesmerising,
And let it talk within yourself: the poetry and spells.
These are the miracles, you see beneath arising,
The moment when the morning's falling as the veils.
Once you run into the honeyed meadow spinning,
Into the rushing time that is buzzing as a beehive:
Just find within yourself not shape but meaning,
Don't feel yourself misled but truly honestly alive.