Black And Ivory

There was a hushed flash of black
with a shining that cascaded
as a waterfall racing over ebony rocks
and then a swirling of blackness
that flowed and whirled and swayed
to music that only angels can play.
A wholeness in parts
made from the finest of strands
that spun in a dance
as embraced by the air
and called by the earth
it softly descended
to where it now fell.
And reaching the ocean of heart
between two gentle peaks
that reached out from the dark
it slowed in its flowing
and became still
as a pool of pure water
in a deep mountain cavern
waiting to reflect the light
of the moon.
And shining more darkly
than the moonbeams of night
there it rested
against a canvas of soft ivory.
She had let down her hair.

by David Taylor

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