What pitch of entropy, what glassy trumpet call
The roar and rolling of a mindless sea
Drowning men of words and beasts of calm
No constant but constant mercury
–
Shatter there upon the rocks and rise again
To resound, a death knell for death’s rest
That peace which might have been our lot
Between cauldron’s boil and thorny crest
–
What fury roused and left unanswered!
What ardor, fear, and stark unknowing
Whether against the swell or drifting apart
She cradles – ever sinking, ever floating
Ksarveel, splayed fingers,
and breath arrested, staring
through the void both near and far,
in alien lights yet glistening
she recalls the warmth of a star
But there Earth’s detritus spinning
about a whorl of Lethe’s conception
rocks and silky gravel hissing
without sound upon the Sun’s extinction
all about its inky heart and rim
She, naught but ambient life
in food plucked and flesh contrived
knows death by nanoseconds of non-light
bursting lungs through photons sinking
from star to maw, from day to night
Connecting to nature through poetry and prose
| Heart on Fire |
Thoughts, Stories, Poems
Un poème n'est jamais fini, seulement abandonné. A poem is never finished, only abandoned."Paul Valéry"
The Poetry of Emotion
Read on, it's good for the brain.
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