not a blade of grass dies
that isnt reborn
in heaven
beyond
the skies
not a bird in the air
flies
without darwin
and his theory
bringing
tears to its eyes
not of joy
not of anger
but of what it says
of mankind to his maker
theres
not an animal
on the land
that hasnt been made
without Gods hand
theres not a mountain
nor
a glade
that wasnt made
wasnt made.
babylon
begone!
morning
dawns
on a forgery
and it is gone
the tower made by a glassblower
reached to
the edge of the clouds
rolling along in mystical mounds
...follow the glass stairs
through
misty climb...
to the chime
of ancestral clock
striking its demise
with insistent
knock
a pearl
was found
in the city
silent
silken
wave
patterns
on my brain.
oh love
thou lingerest in the far corners of the earth
to escape
my vanity
while yet mariners of the circumference of the globe
with their
journey entrenched in their imagination
sail the seas
like an albatross in flight
the
middle east is melted down
a soothsayers is heard to frown
recrystalize and tantalize the secret vault
remember
mankind
before the revolt
ah tis a noble fault.
come in to the olive grove
he
proclaims
meet the clouds of rising dust
.......
a butterfly
emerges from a silk cocoon.
drown
in the sunset
the call of a bird
going through the soul
like through a hole
a
stone unmoved
as it alights
shining
in the vibrancy of its tone
swimming
the rising clouds of dust
cross on nearby chapel
stainless steel
mirroring
sunsets dapple
silence-backgrounded wafflings
as cockatoos give a toast
to
dreamlike twilight
silent lightning in the sky
lights upon dancing horses
without
pain
in fields of blue bell campanula
red sky fades into night.
time is mortal
so
is the wound
join the sands washed
on the bosum of nearby shore
as
faint starlight
beckons
long awaited peace
