Swaddled in the baptism of time
Thought and being
Solitude
Moments of intimacy
With the inner secrets of SELF
Woven threads
Yesterdays the weft
Tomorrows the warp
This cloak of life woven
Textured by the visions of heart
Patterned by the quest of soul
Moments in freedom's embrace
A silent resonant call is heard
Wonder, oneness, echo a repose
A return to innocence
Swaddled in the baptism of time.
Rose Marie Raccioppi
“I Am Half-Sick of Shadows," Said the Lady of Shalott, 1915, Oil on canvas, John William Waterhouse, 1849-1917.
Thought and being
Solitude
Moments of intimacy
With the inner secrets of SELF
Woven threads
Yesterdays the weft
Tomorrows the warp
This cloak of life woven
Textured by the visions of heart
Patterned by the quest of soul
Moments in freedom's embrace
A silent resonant call is heard
Wonder, oneness, echo a repose
A return to innocence
Swaddled in the baptism of time.
Rose Marie Raccioppi
“I Am Half-Sick of Shadows," Said the Lady of Shalott, 1915, Oil on canvas, John William Waterhouse, 1849-1917.
