Nectar of Pure Joy

a poem

Almond Blossoms by Vincent van Gogh (1890)

Thinly does it come,
Up over hills and chasms deep.
Low at first, but blooming up
Like almond blossoms after sleep.

Notes of gold and grass and sweat
And incense from the eldest age
Create a tapestry with sound
And sight and hand and soul engaged.

There — again! — Can you hear?
Melodious, tranquil, ancient but young;
The aria swells and dives again
With chorus that has long been sung.

Untamed; wild and free
From care and pretense and hubris and fright.
Unencumbered by the yoke
Of many-fingered dark desire,
It glides; weightless.
A feather —
Whistling down the canyons
Of breathless empire
From the Garden of Delight.

Loosen your tongues, rivers!
Foothills, lakes, ravines and plains
Come alive! Explode in song
Before the dew of morning wanes.
Exult, roar, bubble over with the nectar of
Pure joy
Beyond words;
Join the delicate sweetness of
Rhythms unknown and syllables
Taught by the Painter of birds.

Forever rising up and through
The muck of lowly human pride,
The old refrain still beckons forth,
From mountains high to deep inside.

"Return!" it rings, with gladness deep;
The jubilee of a battle won.
"Come out of hiding, find your life,
And with Me, you'll forever run."