The River Only

The sky was a shade the heavens create when no one is there
Quiet as light indwelling spirit appears,
Translucent reason poured streams of nascent thought
Into a timeless cup of violet green life
Breathing warm and still pulse of wings;

On furrowless fields heartfelt caresses fell the soul of rain
Danced to triumphant scores written by wind and sea,

Play through dreaming branches the River only knows
Where all the paths lead spoken in the tongues of leaves
Deep earthen crusts of fire, murmuring to the sea,

Long before the Age of Hands appeared;

Grasping prehensile mind collated of dust and ire
What ceaseless entity of fuel and forges conspires
To reap an endless harvest from Heavens bountiful plains,

See through the hollowing corridors of smoking light
Leading to a thing so profane as to deface the sky
Altars of ashes and charcoal stolen blessings of the trees,

Play through dreaming branches, the River only knows . . .

Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2012-12-23 at 21:13

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