25 Aug Comet, Intentional

Posted at 13:34h in Poems by

Frequently must a man at work rest his hand
To contemplate heaven, to gradually understand
Because labor serves the man and not reverse
To toil in itself is sufficient a curse

Under splendid arrangement of whiskered clouds
From their lonesome walks to their thunderous crowds
Falling water makes vertical the rivers to the sea
From windows in the sky to boughs of a tree
Who heeds the plaint of the natural court
Drawing evening malt from the daytime wort
Under haughty oppression of fortressed skies
Watching unmoved as its downstream dies

Momentous spirit of sizzling static
Journeys with planets through the night
Distance makes its light monochromatic
Yet it shines plentiful to unaided sight
Slowly speaking its final destination
Revealing an origin with glittering trail
A stardust chain it drags to ruination
The labor of something lost and male
Sets to spark a dismal order of hosts
Guardians in darkness high-painted
To Plutonic, Stygian, Naraka coasts
Swiftly rending the lake placated
Fixed not in its path through the air
Kissing the earth by a steaming curtsy
Affixed when the earth and the time it where
Marvel of iron and feather and scorching mercy

Who raises the earth by falling upon it, who is not mindless.

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