Hung in time’s pendulum
felled between the measured chimes
pinned inside the gate of miracles ;
certainty trembles :
bronze sheaved corn erect for harvest
flattened by that one freak storm .

Yesterday’s a bluebird
beaked with silken scarf
flies fast to erode tomorrow’s granite ,
and wise men wait
immobile in that detached space:
chop wood, eat fire, drink from molten river
search their truth in children’s eyes.

Lightning strikes so calmly
blasting bolt splits knotted oak
nurtured centuries in nature’s arbour,
and certainty’s an island
dropped in shark infested sea,
here we flounder for horizon
flotsam fleshed on random wave.

‘’Now’’ leafs her girdled circlet
springs from sprouted heartbeat
bites the blood of old men’s breath
holograms each withered hand ,
pattern tunes your family voice
that seals lost generations .

Caught inert in measured swing
life blossom’s her blind moment
turns the stair ,reneges once more ,
and certainty’s a witness,
beam your hopes in fervent prayer ,
chop wood, eat fire, drink from molten river
relive your truth in children’s eyes .

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s