L'aura del Campo

There comes a softening... (M1,M2,M3,M4)

There comes a softening...

...to the void
when pierced by cries
of unborn souls
waiting to be sent
to new birthed worlds
to fill
their emptiness—
assuage their pain.

© Kåre Enga [171.M1]

There comes a softening...

...of the flame
when exhausted embers
banked—now tamed—
gnaw at wood
with every breath
before they sleep—
awake—
then sleep again.

© Kåre Enga [171.M2]

There comes a softening...

...to verbs
when mollified—mellow
then temper, relax
knead and squash—
when liquefied—
from what once was hardened—
all action
now flaccid, flabby,
limp.

© Kåre Enga [171.M3]

There comes a softening...

...to marble statues
when acid rain erodes
with tears—what
millennia held off.

...and to your torso
—taut upon our bed—
when my flesh
gently cuddles it.

© Kåre Enga [171.M4]

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