Deep as lapis upon their green stems
Flower these glimmering flames of ginger.
Our gaze keeps swimming in,
Allured to the quiet place where the blue lies pooled.
Dark leaves. Whorled dark flowers.
As if we were staring at candles
We fall silent, turning to blue flowers
How slowly they open into the glowing mind!
They shine doubled, as if already
Remembered. The shock of peace.
The shade of our lost lives burns into bloom
And returns to us, trembling with immanence.
What can we be sure of, lifted to the soft edge
Of vision? Only the blue fire
Like ginger, blossoming.