Semaphore Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

It's a dialogue

The curling entrance of the temple
Seems pull me to the whirl of soul.
The inner whirlpool of the petals
Of sahasrara violet glow.
The fire of the soul warms me.
…The haunting thoughts are thrown away.
And colours violet-red and green
And violet-yellow in play...

Vinita:
How the soul get stirred,
Iinto a whirl.
How colors fly apart,
…To unite the heart.

The storm in soul
Calms, when colours
Plays as in semaphore
Before the eyes.
And something dark or
…Grey dark either
Is flying out,
As the butterfly...

Vinita
Yes, it would
be nice if all the dark butterflies fly out...
leaving behind their colours
for the soul to refine...and make white...