Great foaming green waves wash over the rocks
without wearing away their greyness.
Your love engulfs me, but does not steal away
or erode the sad cystalline structure of my private thoughts,
at times rising heavy and craggy from the ancient seabed of a former life.

You mediate skilfully, with warmth and caring.
My old reptilian self draws back from any
professional concern about its state.
Inscrutable indeed, and a cause of bafflement,
a soul that would shrink from care and thrive on neglect!

Mysterious and unfathomable, these truths test us
and set us apart at times: me, rock hard
in my persistent individuality; you with your
wonderful, surging, wind-whipped love.

Brian Devlin
November 2, 2007


3 thoughts on “

  1. Why do we do this to ourselves? Mysterious.  Awareness is all, that unexamined life is a sadness….. to accept our inconsistencies, our inabilities is part of the rich tapestry we weave. 

    Warm regards,  Jane Quin. 

    Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPhone


  2. Whoa Brian, feeling somewhat bound by the various instrumentalities required of my professional work this week, reading this poem today was a feast for the soul. Much love to Nancy, you and to the family. Hugs, Karen, Arthur and the family

    Sent from Mail for Windows 10


  3. You’ve been busy…quickly whipping of this poem on this 4th…cool! See you in coming moments. Enjoy this great day, mate!…Doug.


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