The olive trees at night never cry, nestling under the sky that never falls. They speak each other’s name and exchange blue-pink light in a marriage, a union, which is indifferent to the worldly game - becoming divine lovers. They tenderly shiver the light of the moon, being one in all things, acting from all sides, all at once.
Their love is deathless on the horizon’s cradle of change, and they show their steady radiance in an array of jewelled colours of a shattered flower.
The lion of the mind comes to bless their union, without books and words, roaring into the riddle of surrendering. It recreates an imaginal overlay, which glistens in the early morning drops of dew on the silver-green olive leaves - a living script of seeing as we stagger through earthly fields of fire to face the faceless Real.
the pink-blue night skies
and the olive trees unite
the One in all things