|
Glory
by Uriel TovarThe time has come between man and plant,
Focused on the exhaling.
Rotary and gas
Pressed through illusions of the mind--
Entering into a final form.
Peace
Passed through a looking glass,
Augmented and displaced
In a gyrating orb--filled
To the brim with water.
Hope is the final stage--
Reaching the tips of a finger
Within our grasp
But just out of touch.
In the evening there might be no walls,
But the dusk casts a terrible shadow upon my broken cottage
Aged with compassion and love
Until the structure gives way.
The temple is now broken,
Torn in two.
But there is no apparition of a heavenly man within
Only the echoes of a haunted race.
12/11/2004 Posted on 12/12/2004
Copyright © 2024 Uriel Tovar
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Melina Raven Maness Diebold on 12/15/04 at 09:02 PM Outstanding! An excellent description of inner conflict of faith. I like the intermingling of science-related images. Adds sort of Darwin versus Creationism shine to it. At least to me. :D |
|
