Blood and Breath.

My God, This throbbing life is my inheritance.

What pastures lie beyond

This plight of ignorance?

A wrinkled old man’s face may cast a glance

And regret the smooth complexion of romance.

Those seedless thoughts the richest soil lay waste.

It is life’s recoil, winter deep.

Leaves brown, down tumble

Brittle trinkets of decay,

Whirled and swirled in a fairy’s  jingle.

Death is bleak. Death is hollow.

Gusted to its hallowed portal

From age old mound of earth moist

Springs life again, seeping from the wilderness.

Flicker that flame, sweet tremors from below

Now enclose life’s thrust

And murmurs from below,

Glow now, baited breath and bellows

Bare those heated coals

Till life in rapture ruptures

Earth’s crust and steaming lava flows

To woo man forth.

Pitched past the verge in God’s art

Of mysteries limitless,

The sun arches low across the sea.

Each crested wave of growth

Weeps bitter tears in death

And crimson droplets conceive the birth of newness.

Who could have guessed these patterns of time?

But He who spied her weave insects,

Yield each wing to fly or swallow mould,

Suck sap from the earth moist,

Men’s seedlings plant till flesh unfolds

From nature’s nurturing.

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