Tuesday, April 3, 2012

A handful of white pulverized sand; O you

A handful of white pulverized sand; O you
The coarse remains of brittle, tender shells,
Or little cells that once were of the coral
Providing a safe enclave for a school.

I see myself the terse and winding river
That finds its start up near the mountain top
And weaves to ocean through successive valleys
Etching a narrative across the earth.

See not the changing face of this fair world
But what is constant lying underneath,
Disclosed to those of pure, impoverished hearts.

The nonsense of the verse absolves myself
Of only some of the tart guilt I feel
For singing vainly of my plain desire.

No comments:

Post a Comment