In this now
A future undeniable
A faith unassailable
A love unequivocal
I stand with you
Will you stand with me?
“Not one,” said he
With a tone of
Finality
“Well, what then of Blorange?
Which the Welsh named a peak
Then too there’s sporange
A spore sack, so say scientist geeks”
“Ah, so indeed there are rhymes!”
Said he, though shaking his head
“But, what poet would use them?
Such odd freakish terms
I’d be seen as deranged!”
Gulls on wing
Horizon bound
Their cries
An ever-fading skree
Which mocks the beauty
Of their flight
And here am I
On blackened shore
Which rose from magma’s
Golden glow
Now in reverse
The waning sky
Will soon enough
Become the night
I recall the sun
Hard
And hot
Burning through
The cold air coursing
I recall the sea
Singing
Its white noise crescendo
The roar
Of a planet alive
I recall this moment
Blissfully
Unattached
Firmly rooted to ground
In the grip of experience
Refreshed by the cool breeze
Chilling the fire
Of the hot sun
Atop the curvilinear delights
Of hillocks dappled
With grasses and pines
Where even infinity seems so close
I could touch it
Right there
As the curve of the Earth
Rounds the line
Where ocean meets the sky
A formation
Of pilings
Long past utility
Though still
They throw
A striking pose
Just before
The curtain
Falls
Pix to Words 