This perishable year is racing
toward its exit. With its closure
there is hope and regret, perhaps
not of equal measure. Above and
beyond the Universe hums and strums.
A chronology of birth and of death
anniversaries and annulled
expectations occur and fade, a
glimmering wisp of electrified
thought and aspiration. The sphere
that is our refuge is steeped in
conflict, mountains shed their
carapaces, volcanoes their interiors
the seas rise at the command of
wind and stars. There is no
permanence, hence scant comfort.
Yet Nature assures us existence
is timeless, though mortals not.
No comments:
Post a Comment