Queen of cups

How could I speak,
Of my unsaid secret desires,
When I am named,
Queen of Cups.

Sitting on fountain of heart,
Pouring love,
in empty cups.

What I shall become,
Without a title,
without my work…

Hours pass by,
With its glass carriage,
Fragile and clear,
with a passenger,
A visitor,
From the unknown world.

Queen of light,
wrapped in her white feathers,
Stops at my place,
with a gift in her hands.

A silver shiny ball,
Felt like a lightning
When she put it between my palms,
She called it,

I became,
An empty space,
For the breath of life,
To pass,
And opens the gates of my heart,
Shape my clay,
In a shepherd’s simple flute,
Where still air,
Pass through
The silent chamber,
Murmur a melody
Of the higher spirit.
Tears drop from my eyes,
Become fountain in my heart,
Pour love into cups.

How could I resign
From such a wonderful work,
When all of my needs
either gone or fulfilled.

When the only requirement,
Is the secrecy of heart
And sacredness of love.
when it promises,
The eternity.

© Serena Devi, March 2010, Thornhill Canada

One response to “Queen of cups”

  1. you are queen of poetry today!
    beautiful poem!

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