Soul Changing
By
Radiance Angelina Petro

 

At the end of the day, we are all
light-seeking. In this world of seeming
and guessing, the impulse towards ever-spring
unfolds the flower of longing.

We all know about withering and the falling
of petals. We know pain determines so much.
We know winter is coming, and so we turn
towards the warmth of the fire.

Time secretly aligns seeds towards the sun.
No matter how long we sleep love is waiting—
taking slow, simple sips of pure contentment.

Darkness is the point of departure. It is soul-
changing, and love uses it to encourage us to enter
the struggle upwards. We must be willing

to accept surprises. Surprises, like why-questions
suddenly unriddled, surprises like eternity,
surprises, like the ever-spring unfolding
the flower into love’s waiting hands.

 

 

 

 


 


The Forest of Tulsi, by Radiance Angelina Petro

The Forest of Tulsi
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

 

The forest of Tulsi, where Krishna danced,
is still there opening to a hundred roads.

What does it matter—iron age, silver age,
bronze, or golden? We’re all dressed like Radha.

The inaccessible one shakes off the world.
The bed of the one without a second is waiting for you.

 

 

 


 


Sailing at Night, By Radiance Angelina Petro

Sailing at Night
By
Radiance Angelina Petro

 

I seem to sail only at night.
The arrow of my misbehaving compass
jiggles, the cherubs at the edges of the maps
blow too many winds. And yet,
somewhere is the almost unbelievable shore,
and I am being drawn there by the tones
of a sonorous bell.

 

 

 


 


The Smooth Bed of Eternity, By Radiance Angelina Petro

The Smooth Bed of Eternity
By
Radiance Angelina Petro

 

It’s a soft beginning to the day—just the sky making
invitations to live into its breathing. From then on
my practical life is gone.

Everyday inclines towards the marvelous,
and so, my heart careens towards the sun,
turning my objectives upside down.

Meanwhile, my wants lead me
where there is nothing to do except
participate in them all.

Sometimes, with the wear and tear
of seasons, my fear blocks the entrance way
to light.

You see, I want a soft ending—where I’m lifted,
like a child, from the vestiges of memory,
to where all that is left is the smooth bed of eternity.