Poem For Cynthia Austin
Cynthia sings tunes
In a template, floating fonts,
Melodies form like Celtic tapestries,
My arms, holding the paper, grow green!
Green as new shoots, corded like vines,
The color finds my heart,
Her imagination unfolds in me.
The truth of the Ancients is revealed,
Empowering us with shadow-knowledge,
Cynthia glides about, lifting veils, saying “See?”
This is how it was, how it is,
And how it remains’,
Beyond our helter-skelter pale,
Past our concrete smugness,
Out where the myths live,
In the green,
That my soul tries to draw color from.
- Roger Buston, March 09, 2005
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