That wildly indignant flame,
bursting in its fetters,
has now burnt to a solitary crisp.
I have seen the oceans
surge and die.
I have heard the winds
howling on the skin of the earth
for their frail purpose
come to end.
Drifting through woodland
stark against the sunset sky:
Had I whispered of their lives
at the height of time,
perhaps they would now have come to know
a bloom such as no rigid earth
could offer, nor no poet tell.
03/2015
White Sands