Yeshiva University High School For Girls - Elchanette Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 13 text:

and sway to the rhythm of swing, a wind unlocks secret springs and all is a spiral of delight. Gently letting lucidness ily we glide through a maze of mind where shapes contain realities that slip and curve and are clear, shaped in place by a shot special and warm that we wish would last long into crisp night or autumn, where a rounded blushing cheek tingles at touch and taut legs skim a pavement, where tower templedomed trees that scratch the sky and sweep in grace a loving earth. Now, we wish to contemplate a shape. To give surface to depth of mind, to crystalize abstraction in a slant, a half thought in a circle, a desire baseless and large, felt but unexpressed. Crystals of compression gently sifted as the sands, each a piercing light when brought to sight in proper perspective. Teardrops of glass glisten in the rain and chimes clink, bathed in cod colored arcs of rainbow display. Trusted triangles stand and radiate, hourglasses curve and rectangles tangle at the edges. Light, pattern free, slides down the mind and filters color. A feather swirls, sinks, and settles softly for a second of reality and the melody offlight sings on through the chan- nels of hearts that rejoice. And still we mean to touch the flitting form. And time the moments passing slowly drifting slowly through the passing time, has but one string sound. And fantasies in pockets hidden deep in poet's pockets, lie suspended. And your dreams will quiver silently, and also hide in shapes of time. 9

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To draw upon the sill of mind deep welled realities beyond time resolved in a flne second of thought by a subtle mind molded in inflection and pierced by the reflection of a morning glory that is, shimmering and shy crinkling in its colorful modesty, a bit like you and me. It stands there at dawnbreak a flower slowing swirling full face, a bud yawning in a field of shadowy, a simple color petal that speaks. As mist seeps brightly onto shiny faces of the morn: sun haloed hair sails, and warm dappled backs through tangled arms of tender grass flit and run, stop and grasp. Squeaking greens in our slippery grasp as a madness to uproot sears the brain, fingers fumble in the brown and sinking loam that soaks our skin and warms our knees. And we split and spear living weeds, in a whirling wish to clean and free a garden for grass. We stop and gasp. And wonder why we kill the weeds and where this dizzied pulling plans to stopg and it forces one to see that one of imagery, could not skin a flapping llsh without seeing that a squirming life had been stopped. A butterfly of silent light love skins across a curving sky in and out of sight, love lingering long in sleepy bliss slowly a part of consciousness ofjoy acute and unsifted that frees all to leap, land and sink slow motioned in a cycle of blinded sight a streaking flight through a flowered field of airy light spraying green through squirming toes to rejoice. As memory llits through a vaseline lens of love, we gaze, fall, ears down towards a pulsing plain where sprout sprinkled lilies and tulips that are firm 8

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Each man dreams as he fades into the unknown lto leave his work on the gutter to sear the lips of men to chisel in the mind to leave a progeny ofwhat he feels and knowsl Who sees the raging beauty of clouds shamed by sunset sees but a moment: not so who knows one great wisdom who loves one great love. Such is the legacy ofthe book and the rose.