And time and tide shall know our course is one ordained.
The clouds - white on the hills - and the purple dreaming heather
Shall pledge one ode for us like their spirit inseparable and unchained.
The swan on their spring flight feel deep peace on their spread wings,
And build among the rush their morrow unborn:
"Together yet together!" the chaffinch sings:
"Together yet together!" the grasses croon,
Touched by the wandering fingers of the morn.
Even while the world its pale hope crucifies,
Spurting from iron lungs a molten death,
Amid the pain and terror a hallowed breath
Shall pervade us twain and heal heart of its sighs.
For Ocean owns not a Vesuvius master,
Nor shall Earthquake distort the oakwood's grain:
The baffled Soul staggering to blind disaster,
Shall yet look up and see its truth again.
Twain minds enfibred of mutual thoughts unspoken,
Unto one cycle of being are beholden,
To burgeon each with each to their full grace.
Each to its shore through dark ways and through golden,
Revealing unto each Love's inalienable place.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment