She was led from darkness into meadows of blue sky.
She ran among the clouds and with the birds she learned to cry
Calls of purest sorrow mingled with purest of mirth.
She sang a howl in the wind of death and of rebirth.
Drinking from the bounty of the bosoms of her cloud,
One day did she descry a land beyond her misty shroud.
Licking milk from her fair lips, she skipped down on a breeze
And landed with a rustle far upon lush canopies.
Bent were boughs and branches, bark of brown and green and grey,
Beneath her bent, frail figure fainting with the light of day.
Night fell dark and stormy and the clouds swelled with their grief,
Upon the wind her figure borne, with ev'ry cursèd leaf.
Morning rose unbidden then upon the naked wood,
Living thing, and ornament, although none understood.
Gone was ev'ry hint of green, all around was bare;
Even where she fell before, no part of her was there.
Bare above was the pale sky, the clouds left not a trace;
Nor did they return there, where their dear one fell from grace.
Harshest rays of Sun bore down the fate of that cruel space.
Nothing more than dust and sand would occupy that place.
-LP