Poem 34

A Poem by Samuel I Moth

The rainy cloudy climes
that crest in November
will pass, the crawling winter ice
will thaw and be gone,
replaced by a spring lark's warmer song,
yet the lark too shall pass back
into the cool mumbling ground.

Jupiter Mars and Venus could erode
away painfully slow, or explode like glass,
blast into stars and
skip from this world without a trace
before we wake tomorrow.

Flower seeds wind-dash and from
botanical schools of thought
their seedlings charged with fight

rage up from the roots
spreading daisies for a while, then gone.

The river we swam will shrink and dry,
each drop of water will rise and fly
to reappear in someone's eye
as a tear-drop from the worst goodbye
and goodbye tears recycle again
to form new rivers
but those too will end.

So ends court beginnings,
beginnings court ends,
cycling life cycles
til cycling life ends,
and how it moves
through the fog of the face
in surreal gear
that cannot be traced
I do not know,
but we both know,
that all that shall pass
as though it never was,
but my love for you will not.

The winging robins
on a white summer day,
teasing the earth in perpetual play,
will one day fold their light robes,
lose their bright chords,
and having lost their last remnant of color,
will pass to a place like heaven,
but my love for you will stay.

For my heart stomps all these things
to settle at your shore
and my heart
drynested in unleaving hope,
spinning perpetual disrepair,
yields but to the place where you are there,
sidestepping rubble
it slips the shank of time
rejoicing forever, forever it shines.