Who could condemn the clouds
for its dream and rendition of heaven
in vanilla cotton canopies
like steam trails from wishful
twilight's great sleeping

who could refuse the stars
that connects distant years from space
to wonderment's eyes here,
gazing up tonight agape at its mystique

when the machine mach march
of industry and city din spinning
in smog loud air - percussions down
to the edge of the shore

where silver sheen of onyx
black stillness of the water laps
licking the earth in its soft reality
the moon-glow and darkness

with its unseen places keeping slumber
in silent throes or weeping woes
still, I ache to cease the gnashing
of teeth - Barbary and conquering…

those who are unseeing in great haste
With worry and loss of a moment's look
theirs given to everything
outside themselves, mistook.

Who blames heaven, not knowing how
we lead a song yet never loving its vow?
Search for more of offerings
yet not even aware of how
blessed we are
here and now...?