Lightning, which stuns the calm heavens,
leaves void a vacuum where she trod;
wild meteors streak once the dark cold,
rendered rubble by earthly plod;
racing stars dance far 'round cycles
possessed only ever by God.

Celestials fair are fine as fire;
love them as you would the pyre.

The sea, this seamstress so charming,
lures on, with sails tailored to sleep.
As streams and rivers and falls rush,
sirens sing us soft to their keep
and reckless with such fresh powers
wash us down there ever to weep.

To chase wild currents without shame,
you too cannot return the same.

There is beauty in massive stone,
soaring, crumbling, of earth the bone.
Cyclones, typhoons, twisting riot,
prove passion's nature oft unquiet.
We find a shine in metal, gem;
still splendor paints both root and stem.
More the marvel at pulsing hearts,
but life and death are bloody arts.

The quiet and unheralded rain
who cheers the flowers, feeds the grain,
perfumes forests, laves streets to shine:
this loveliness I’d have as mine.

But what a creature cannot choose
at least is never ours to lose.

09/12/2019

Author's Note: I don't have strong feelings about the meter. I just wanted to get this out after a long absence from writing.

Posted on 09/12/2019
Copyright © 2024 Laurie Duncan