Tales of the vine

I don’t have much to say
these days -
just a few arguments
with myself
as to the nature
of love and fear,
prana and demons,
light and shadow,
and whether
you can have one
without the other;
dualities mingling.
Fragments personified
to protest the
verging consolidation.

Does the vine
keep the fence intact -
flower-hearts dripping?
Mazes breathe their cantos
into the swirling mesh.
There is a place within
my heart unencumbered;
a river flowing
to a home beyond
my doubts.

© 2001 Melissa Songer