The Tree, composed on 29 October, 2011.

Down to the ground there dropped a small brown seed.

It nestled in the moss and there it lay

Until its armoured shell was shiver’d cracked.

And then the seed was no more.

Up from the earth there grew a sapling, short,

Swaying and swinging in the cool West wind.

Tall it became, and strong. Covered with green.

And then the sapling was no more.

The tree stood long, so solemn, majestic,

Beneath the great wide face of the bright sky,

But then a fire encompassed the tree about,

And then the tree was no more.

The fire burned long and bright and fierce throughout

The day, and then continued into th’ night,

But soon the fuel of its wrath was consumed,

And then the fire was no more.

The night went on for hour after long hour,

And all creation hoped and prayed for light,

But in the morn no light returned the day,

For even the sun was now no more.

Darkness enveloped all that lay on the earth,

Preserving them all with her icy touch.

But never did man rue or curse that day.

Darkness was for evermore.

The Fly, composed on 14 September, 2011.

A broken heap of shattered statues sprawls across the wide wide floor.

I stand.

And look.

And see that all the silent sentinels are nought but strange

                                                            “Tis passing strange.”

Defeated idols of shattered gods.

The One came down upon the ground

To save the suff’ring servant sold in slav’ry shorn

                        “Will you walk out of the air my lord?”

He came beneath, below, between

To save the part of man, unseen,

Which in the scene has lustrous sheen

Which—

            “New low prices—latest devices

  Harder, better, faster, stronger

  Higher, longer, tougher—“

DO NOT TEMP THE LORD THY GOD.

The fire fell on Sodom, Gomorrah,

The water fell on Noah’s ark

The earth fell on the Philistines

The air,

Oh the air,

The air is there without a care

A simple substance, careless rhyme.

Such a poet—sitting still—above some ancient ruin; still

Will hear a deaf’ning buzz

Coming down the mountain of God

But what!

Oh what?

Nought but a blue fly?

Beyond the blue the thousands wait, the

Fly-man showed them all to me

Beyond the blue, therein resides

                                                                        Inescapable eternity.

Dark and dreary,

“Come follow, follow, Follow!

  Come follow; follow me.

  Buzz, buzz, follow, Follow—”

I would prefer not to.

The veil, composed on 18 August, 2011.

I stand before a veil of white,

Which never torn has ever been.

Behind, the sky is blackest night,

The only thing my soul has seen.

I pause, and look for others’ tracks,

I turn and wander, gather facts,

I wish to find comforting packs

Of strangers, upon whom to lean.

But nought confronts; before, behind,

The black and white is all I see.

Absence and vacuum fill my mind,

But still I stand before the sea

Of light, so bright, assaults my eyes

While silent darkness fills my ears.

The lo, a voice, majestic prize,

Attacks my fears with truth and lies

And leads me o’er a shallow rise

To set me searching

Always searching

Searching for the mystic road.

The mystic road is golden paved

With rarely trodden precious stones

And when I saw it I felt saved

Despite the face I was alone.

Upon the path I stood erect

And turned to face the white-washed veil.

Cocksure of my triumph’s aspect

And thinking it was heaven sent,

But short I stood before I saw

The road before me stretch’d ever on

And I was but a manling, small.

Small

                                    And alone.

The Traveler’s curse, composed on 12 August, 2011, after reading “One Thousand on the Road” by John Broadhead.

I walk along this lonely road

Where other’s feet have trod before.

Bound as I am by th’ travelers code,

I dare not seek some newfound store

Of sight or smell or vision keen.

Condemning self to plod along,

Wondering e’er what could have been

Had I but spark to sing new songs

In olden rhyme, I’m counseled for

To search my bleeding heart for verse,

To find some light, some fiery score,

But, dry inside, my lines flow terse.

Then, as I stride along I see

A flash of white, what could it be?

Beneath a stone, trod o’er by men and mice,

There lies a jewel: a pearl of greatest price.

Winter, Composed 14 October, 2011.

The light is heavy, slanted. On winter

Days—in tune—with the rhythm of the earth.

The world around is airy, though graver

It avail. Then do the men and women

Come down to see their mystic savior.

The Storm, composed 20 August, 2011.

 

A storm crashed in the firmament,

And lightning smote the granite clouds.

The Sun’s wide path was covered, rent,

His figure lost, no longer proud.

Upon the earth a simple tree

Bends beneath the thunder’s fury,

And all around small creature cling

And quail beneath the violent surry.

Then, soon enough the storm is spent

And calm pervades the western wind.

But lo, the tree’s proud form is cracked

And lies upon the blasted heath,

And all we want and wonder, can,

Not serve to tell us when it sinned.