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RAJ NANDY Aug 2015
Dear Readers, President Theodore Roosevelt wanted
to save this marvelous Natural Wonder for posterity! So
the Grand Canyon National Park was set up in 1919. In
1979 it was declared as World Heritage Site! With the
portion “Sun rises and sets over the Grand Canyon”, -
I have concluded this poem. Kindly take your time to read,
no need to comment in a hurry please ! Thanks, -Raj

CONCLUDING THE GRAND CANYON
STORY IN VERSE – RAJ NANDY

INTRODUCTION
Literature about great natural features include
two personal types of writing;
Description of things observed, and impressions
of what is known and seen!
The story of the Grand Canyon takes us back
to the Pre-Cambrian Age,
When violent forces were unleashed from within
the Earth, during its formative stage;
When mighty forces of erosion began to sculpture
her undulating landscapes!
Therefore, I begin with a quote about Erosion,
From the great poet Alfred Lord Tennyson; -
“The hills are shadows and they flow,
From form to form, and nothing stands.
They pass like clouds, the solid lands.
Like clouds they shape themselves and go!”

TO RECAPITULATE PART ONE:
In Part One we have seen, how movement of
earth’s tectonic plates unleashed violent forces
from within!
It formed mountains and lakes, shaping our
landscapes, which now appear so peaceful,
grand, and serene!
Over millions of years the forces of erosion in
the form of wind, rain, sun and snow,
Sculptured earth’s evolving features creating
majestic, panoramic vistas as we know!
Geologists now opine, that the Grand Canyon
was carved out by the Colorado River, -
cutting through ‘layers of Geological time’!

THE COLORADO RIVER CARVED THE CANYON:
In the state of Colorado, from the high country,
Where snow and ice lasts well beyond the dawning
days of Spring;
There the majestic peaks of the Rockies form the
perennial fountain head from which springs, -
One of the great rivers of the world the Colorado;
Which travels 1400 miles through seven States
reaching the Californian Gulf west of Mexico!
Now during prehistoric days, the pristine Colorado
had flowed almost along the same path as today!
But after the magical rise of the Colorado Plateau
some five million years ago, (Refer Part One)
It had blocked the river’s path making it flow
south-east into the Gulf of Mexico!
Few Geologists now opine, that this diverted river
had formed the pre-historic Lake Bidahochi,
Which later drained out to form the Little Colorado
River, which today we get see!
But the cut-off western portion of the river (named
Hualapai Drainage) continued to eat away through
the Plateau’s southern portion,
Through a gradual process known as ’Headwater
Erosion’!
For the river flowing at a steeper gradient along
the ‘Grand Staircase’ of the Plateau, carried
stones, rocks and debris,
Which formed the cutting tools, deepening the
Canyon over countless centuries!
When the softer sedimentary layers of the Plateau
below the top rocky layers gave away, - it resulted
in several rock falls!
While flash floods and erosion continued to breach
the sides of the canyon walls!
Thus over millions of years the width of the Canyon
gradually increased;
While the gushing and untamed Colorado River
chiseled through the depths of those Cyclopean walls, -
running deep!
Now the ancient Lake Bidahochi which had breached its
banks, had captured our pristine Colorado;
And their combined power increased the volume of
water and river’s chiseling power, with its rapid flow!

ENDANGERED COLORADO RIVER :
It is unfortunate that today, the Colorado no longer
reach the mighty Pacific as in the olden days!
With the progress of civilization and the spawning
of big cities,
Like Denver, Las Vegas, Phoenix and Los Angeles;
And to cater for the agricultural farmlands and the
Industries,
Many dams got built to divert its water and to
generate electricity!
Thus over a century of overuse and abuse of this
precious natural resource,
Gradually choked up the great Colorado, as it
became a mere trickle at the end of its course!
Ecologists now debate, while USA has launched
‘Save the Colorado River Project’!
Let us now cheer up by getting back to our
Grand Canyon’s scenic beauty,
Before concluding this wondrous Canyon Story!

SUN RISES AND SETS OVER GRAND CANYON!
To see the sunrise from Mather, Yaki, or the
Hopi Point, - located on the Southern Rim,
Becomes a life time experience, better than any
surreal dream!
First a glimmer then a glow, when a faint blue-white
sheen begins to show!
As the sun gradually sprinkles its light, streaks of
crimson red spreads across the eastern sky!
Soon orange and yellow shafts of light, light up the
Canyon walls up high!
Squirrels scurry out of sight, and birds twitter in
the sky!
The Hummingbird hovers like a helicopter, and
Big Horn sheep are also seen;
The Hummingbird which can even fly backwards,
enlivens this early morning scene!
The sun now rising in its resplendent glory,
showers the canyon with its kaleidoscopic beams;
With streaks of yellow, gold and red, it chases out
lurking shadows from within!
Like a curtain lifting before their eyes, the tourists
view this panoramic sight!
As the Grand Canyon awakens to greet the day,
With cameras madly clicking away!
The great ancestors of the Hopi tribe, Hopi
meaning both peaceful and wise;
Had inhabited these areas some eight thousand
years hence!
Their scooped out granaries and tools found inside
Canyon walls, - have an ancient story to tell !
The Spaniards were the first Europeans to reach,
in search for gold which they never found!
But for the Hopis the Canyon remains, as their
sacred Holy ground!
When those Spaniards saw the Colorado way
down below, from the Canyon’s upper rim’s side;
They said that this thin blue streaked River, was
barely five feet wide! (In mid-16th century)
The average width of the Canyon is around 10 miles;
While the River at its narrowest point is 600 yards
wide!
The Condor the largest American bird, catching an
upward draft circles up high;
Like an uncrowned monarch he surveys his kingdom
below, nothing escapes his watchful eyes!
Temperature at the Canyon’s floor is 20 degrees
higher, when compared to its outer rim;
Supports an ecosystem of plants and animals,
With the river as chief nourisher of all things!
Evergreen pines and furs grow along the cooler
areas of the Canyon’s outer rim;
While cactus species are found on its arid floor,
Their exotic flowers bloom during Summer and Spring!
The Northern Rim a thousand feet higher, offers many
spectacular sites!
But the Southern Rim remains open throughout the
year, while the Northern closes during Winter time.
From the Hopi Point west of the Canyon, the visitors
enjoy the beauty of the silent, sinking sun;
When the sky gets diffused with vermillion red, as
darkening shadows engulf those Canyon walls!
The mighty Canyon with its Cyclopean walls,
perhaps the playground of the Titans from eons past;
Shaped by some mythical Vulcan, shall remain till
this World continues to last!

CONCLUDING THE GRAND CANYON STORY:
I conclude my Grand Canyon Story by quoting a
poem I had once read;
Written by an Anonymous author, whose name
I had failed to get!
“BUILT WITH PATIENCE OF ENDLESS TIME,
YEARS ERODE AND SHAPES DEFINE.
LAYERS YIELD THEIR COUNTLESS AGE,
EYES CAN SEE BUT CANNOT GAUGE!
STAND AGAPE WITH AWE INSPIRED,
IMAGE READS OF LIFE TRANSPIRED.
CLIFFS REACH OUT TO TOUCH THE SKY,
PATHS LEAD DOWN WHERE RIVER LYE.
COLORS, SHAPES AND SHADOWS MELD,
HERE, A PLACE FOREVER HELD.
WALK AWAY YET NEVER PART,
BODY LEAVES BUT NOT THE HEART!”
- Anonymous
……………………………………………………………
ALL COPYRIGHTS WITH THE AUTHOR RAJ NANDY
OF NEW DELHI, E-MAIL: rajnandy21@yahoo.in
KINDLY READ PART ONE OF THIS STORY IF YOU HAD MISSED OUT!
THANKS, -Raj Nandy
K Balachandran Jan 2015
Swirling morning mist, draws abstract patterns of love
moving sprightly,  between golden rays of sun,
prattling  breeze and other manifestations winter presents,
green grass on the meadow looks like a dew studded carpet
pussyfooting rabbits, lick dew drops in a hurry and run back
to the warmth of their burrows, to sleep for some more time.

Sun, the nourisher eternal of the world , don't hide anymore
come out, peep above the crowd of sleepy grey old clouds,
looking grumpy, ill mannered and winter arrogant to the core,
don't like their attitude a bit, come out blow your trumpet of warmth
make the drooping wet birds, dry, fly up to the sky with a happy cry
sing songs of joy, warm the hearts,drive the winter gloom out.
ഒരു മഞ്ഞുകാല പ്രഭാത സംഗീതക്കലവി
A midnight black with clouds is in the sky;
I seem to feel, upon my limbs, the weight
Of its vast brooding shadow. All in vain
Turns the tired eye in search of form; no star
Pierces the pitchy veil; no ruddy blaze,
From dwellings lighted by the cheerful hearth,
Tinges the flowering summits of the grass.
No sound of life is heard, no village hum,
Nor measured ***** of footstep in the path,
Nor rush of wing, while, on the breast of Earth,
I lie and listen to her mighty voice:
A voice of many tones--sent up from streams
That wander through the gloom, from woods unseen,
Swayed by the sweeping of the tides of air,
From rocky chasms where darkness dwells all day,
And hollows of the great invisible hills,
And sands that edge the ocean, stretching far
Into the night--a melancholy sound!

  O Earth! dost thou too sorrow for the past
Like man thy offspring? Do I hear thee mourn
Thy childhood's unreturning hours, thy springs
Gone with their genial airs and melodies,
The gentle generations of thy flowers,
And thy majestic groves of olden time,
Perished with all their dwellers? Dost thou wail
For that fair age of which the poets tell,
Ere the rude winds grew keen with frost, or fire
Fell with the rains, or spouted from the hills,
To blast thy greenness, while the ****** night
Was guiltless and salubrious as the day?
Or haply dost thou grieve for those that die--
For living things that trod thy paths awhile,
The love of thee and heaven--and now they sleep
Mixed with the shapeless dust on which thy herds
Trample and graze? I too must grieve with thee,
O'er loved ones lost. Their graves are far away
Upon thy mountains; yet, while I recline
Alone, in darkness, on thy naked soil,
The mighty nourisher and burial-place
Of man, I feel that I embrace their dust.

  Ha! how the murmur deepens! I perceive
And tremble at its dreadful import. Earth
Uplifts a general cry for guilt and wrong,
And heaven is listening. The forgotten graves
Of the heart-broken utter forth their plaint.
The dust of her who loved and was betrayed,
And him who died neglected in his age;
The sepulchres of those who for mankind
Laboured, and earned the recompense of scorn;
Ashes of martyrs for the truth, and bones
Of those who, in the strife for liberty,
Were beaten down, their corses given to dogs,
Their names to infamy, all find a voice.
The nook in which the captive, overtoiled,
Lay down to rest at last, and that which holds
Childhood's sweet blossoms, crushed by cruel hands,
Send up a plaintive sound. From battle-fields,
Where heroes madly drave and dashed their hosts
Against each other, rises up a noise,
As if the armed multitudes of dead
Stirred in their heavy slumber. Mournful tones
Come from the green abysses of the sea--
story of the crimes the guilty sought
To hide beneath its waves. The glens, the groves,
Paths in the thicket, pools of running brook,
And banks and depths of lake, and streets and lanes
Of cities, now that living sounds are hushed,
Murmur of guilty force and treachery.

  Here, where I rest, the vales of Italy
Are round me, populous from early time,
And field of the tremendous warfare waged
'Twixt good and evil. Who, alas, shall dare
Interpret to man's ear the mingled voice
That comes from her old dungeons yawning now
To the black air, her amphitheatres,
Where the dew gathers on the mouldering stones,
And fanes of banished gods, and open tombs,
And roofless palaces, and streets and hearths
Of cities dug from their volcanic graves?
I hear a sound of many languages,
The utterance of nations now no more,
Driven out by mightier, as the days of heaven
Chase one another from the sky. The blood
Of freemen shed by freemen, till strange lords
Came in the hour of weakness, and made fast
The yoke that yet is worn, cries out to Heaven.

  What then shall cleanse thy *****, gentle Earth
From all its painful memories of guilt?
The whelming flood, or the renewing fire,
Or the slow change of time? that so, at last,
The horrid tale of perjury and strife,
****** and spoil, which men call history,
May seem a fable, like the inventions told
By poets of the gods of Greece. O thou,
Who sittest far beyond the Atlantic deep,
Among the sources of thy glorious streams,
My native Land of Groves! a newer page
In the great record of the world is thine;
Shall it be fairer? Fear, and friendly hope,
And envy, watch the issue, while the lines,
By which thou shalt be judged, are written down.
(Song for the Genteel Salesman Blocking My Path Each Time)

If only you knew.

Beneath blonde, rebonded locks
Curled extroverted lashes
Cemented titanium dioxide
Plastered patient breathless pores

Lips-wine-red
Nose elongated,
Dark strokes  imprudent
Cleopatric windows to
Sadness of soul.

Maverick femininity in
Saccharine swan-like greeting

If only you knew.

Eden was perfect paradise
She who was crafted
Immaculately from your rib

She was your Soulmate
You were Beloved
Protector, keeper,
Nourisher of her being

If only you knew.

You are treasured by Him
Who fashioned you
Out of mud
Breathed life into your nostrils

From nothingness
You were imago dei.

You were anointed shepherd
Of all that lived
Moved; slid.

You were perfect
Majestic  in Truth

You were imago dei

As you should have been
And can still be.
Alin May 2015
Bloom had a gravid heart last night
She could not relate but meditate with leaves up

Bloom received a thicket from the moon
While she froze in a posture of  
‘a gift to be presented to ... but for whom?'

Fitted well in length on both of her parabolic curves
as if a newborn glume

a galaxy made of a wood flower
a heap which once a cycle blossomed
same color as the fragrance of a lover's desire
in a deepest clearing at the heart of hearts
at a holy spot where a ray shone
Just one night falling on one cycle  
to awaken a moonflower

She sings the magic wood's tune
to matchmake destined lovers
living in such mirrored cycles

....

The golden  bunch which she then gently grasped
until a fist would became its skin and pulsate
in mindful rhythm

reintegrating the nature of nodes within

reanimating the beat from and through the leaves

delivering health to All its unitless dimensions

The nourisher and the rejuvenated
the heart of joy
a flow
to  find its way this way
along the equifying particles
on one smiling body

she dreamt of

....

Next morning I got up early
seeing the municipal cars aside
with stacks of healthy roots inside
all to be planted in a day
to grow trees
in front of her little house  

and yes she could relate this time

first with bewildered eyes
then with bewildered mind
then with a breathing belly
then with a full heart
she smiled

....

*She was a mystery studying  facts only
Had I devoted my lifetime writing on her
I wouldn’t have gone far.

*The loveliest woman she’s calm and quiet
Endures the tantrums of a none-too-good poet
She speaks so little her eyes are oceans
Silent demonstrator of the deepest emotions!

She is hardly heard on her demands are hard
Her secret dreams get no fanciful word
Isn’t a wife a mother she is beyond and more
A balm of burned heart a smile at the door!

She is the evening in the deep summer noon
Quench of soul’s thirst mind’s melodious tune
The rain on parched earth scent of the soil
The priceless fruit best reward of God’s toil!

She is the harbinger of all aspirations’ seeds
The carer the giver the nourisher of needs
She stands where seems the end of the road
Makes a life full a home love’s abode!
brandon nagley May 2015
Fortify this Amozanian square,
Wherith Baldheads are anguished,
No other place shall compare!!!!

Altered skin wearers,
Sleeve wearing tribesmen!!!

Amourostity don't leave me to far gone,
Showeth me love,
Showeth me loving kindness,
Shower me thy grain!!!
And thine finess....

Fruition comes suddenly,
Studdingly the airs wind stays chill,
Dead/lock exhibitions of fan fare latitude!!!!

A blonde chapter of northern affairs,
How changeable is ones man I can smile!!!

Defilement she hath seen,
Derider,
Non abider,
Doesn't fit on thine circuited scene...

What a guise to all wherin whom sleep!!!

Guardeth thy soul,
Their mind is of allotrope,
You'll whimper as they weepeth!!!!

Flourisher,
Nourisher of nutrientral push!!!
Snappish,
Irenic, lover of pre school books!!!!

Sorceries own solvent,
Dissolvent of surmise talk,

Your a new age Delilah thou fresh smelling mucosa you!!!!!
Pramod Shinde May 2015
sorbid and incomplete thee
morbid and burried me

she gave birth
and is
consistent
nourisher of me

she devote herself
and her life
only to care
idiotic me

how i thank her
as she is the
only reason
hence i survive in me


*Happy Mothers Day
brandon nagley May 2015
Fortify this amazonian square,
Wherein Baldheads are anguished,
No other place can compare!!!

Amorosity, dont leaveth me to far gone,
Showeth me love,
Showeth me loving kindness,
Showeth me thine grain,
Showeth me thy fineness!!!

Fruition cometh suddenly,
Stunningly the air's wind stays chill,
Deadlock exhibitions of fan fare latitude!!!

A blade chapter of northern affair's,
How changeable is her manikin smile!!

Defilement she hath seen,
Derider,
Non abider,
Doesn't fit thy circuit scene!!!

What a dream to all whoso sleep,
Guard thy soul,
Her mind is gold,
Youll whimper as she weeps!!!

Flourisher,

Nourisher of nutriential push,
Snappish,
Pacifist,
Lover of pre schooled books!!!!

Sorceries own  solvent!!!!

Dissolvent of surmise talk!!!

Your a new age Delilah thou fresh smelling pedal thou!!!!
Ceyhun Mahi Dec 2016
The harshness of mental illness,
Who's the soul's hidden polisher,
And the soul's hidden nourisher,
Rewards with Faith and steadiness.
Veritia Venandi Aug 2020
The smells of frankincense and myrrh made holy the air...
As white flames with smoke veiled the deity...
The one priest with folded hands and bowed head...
Offered his obeisance to the one he had always thought of as his own... his one Lord God!

Far away in an unknown land...
Another man was counting the beads of his rosary...
Singing hymns in praise of the One...
His protector and nourisher... His one Almighty God!

Yet when night took over the day...And the two men prepared for slumber...
The universal One sang the same cosmic lullaby:
"My children under one roof...!"
We may belong to diverse nationalities and cultures... worship the One in various forms... And yet we stand United under one roof, under the equal eyes of that One universal intelligence! Thank you so much for reading this and for all your love and support! ❤❤
Don't say it, I warned, I professed
Don't say
the tears of a woman
weigh more
than the tears of a man
I wouldn't dare, she said
for even though my tears could crush scales
their load could plant ten oxen in the dirt
capsize ships
they also carry the joy
that you are by my side
and your tears
bellow with the fear
that you are alone

I nodded
she understood

She rested her head on my shoulder
a weight that pleased me
a gesture that eased my heart
tell me, she said
about the scars in the river

I didn't know what she meant
a river with scars
what bled from it
water does not bleed
I told her this
she said
if water does not bleed
men do not cry
I said, men do cry
she said, then water does bleed
I ask, what does water bleed
everything breaks, she said
everything is made of finer things
fine things in men break, I said
who breaks them, she asked
women do, I said
did I break you, she asked
not yet, I sighed, not yet
and she then wished in her heart
that that would never yet be so

I wondered from then on
even after she broke me
even after I forgot her face
what are the scars in the river
what does water bleed

Then
on a day when the sun baked the earth
when thirst drove one to madness for water
when children dove in the lake
dogs panted cross-armed beside steaming asphalt
just to feel the windrush of the cars
people, blasting air-conditioning, counted their blessings
people, sweat sogging their ragged clothes, counted their woes
and I watched the sea give of itself to the sky
water evaporated heavenward
and I said to myself,
ahh - water does bleed

In the days that followed
the bleeding of the rivers, lakes, ocean, and people,
I watched the heavens weep terribly
like a mother in despair over her dead child
and I saw people drink of the sky
dance in the weeping
laugh - laugh to crying if they must
laugh for exultation of life and love
dance and roll and frolic in the richness of the land
and I asked myself
having seen the bleeding of the river
Is this the bleeding of the sky

Winter came slow
like death, we expected it
yet dreaded its presence when it arrived
how the snow choked the life out of the land
and we clamored in fear of the world without
We clung to one another
clung in ways I never knew in summer
intimate like a scarf around the neck
she and I snuggled in the sheets
no fear of sweat
no
sweat was desired
water was desired in every way
to break the spell of the arid air
she and I danced the way
only two bodies could
when connected like child to mother
she was connected to me
I was the nourisher
I was the farmer in the field
in her fields
in the fields of the future
generations could be sown and grown
and yet
they could cease to exist should I
deign to disappear from her
the cruelty of destroying the future was present
a cruelty that is
a man's purpose
to allow, or to abate

We held one another
by the window
watching winter fade
snow crept from the trees
the ground dissolved from winter white to early-spring brown
I watched the snow bleed
I then saw it all
the cycle of life
water and its many phases
and I turned to her
I said, "I love you."
She understood
as she held me tighter
shedding the weight of the past
she pressed her lips on my ear
said, "Thank you, my love."
And from then, I never scarred again.
My rivers never bled
and neither hers
evermore.
I shall leave this one with a simple note:
Find the loves that inspire you.

As always, enjoy!

DEW
Dr Peter Lim Sep 2017
This is yours
to write
alone
for yourself-
the anthem
of your life
crystallised
from your tears
purified
by your own heart
carved
from the depths
of your soul

unknown
unheard
by the world

not sung
by the nation
to the raising
of the flag
nor to the sound
of trumpets
horns and brass
nor to the march
of medal-wearing soldiers

every note
forged
from the furnace
of your pain and sorrow

life is yours
yours alone
it belongs
to no nation
nor to the world
you are the keeper
the preserver
the nourisher
the nurturer
the alpha
and omega
the only knower

where you stand
is your self-crafted
sacred ground
that tiny spot
you count
as your right
and legacy
unalienable
verily
to the end of time

what though
the wildest storms
come your way
what though
the ground
were to shake
what though
all were in flames
what though
you were inundated
by sweeping waves
from the tumultuous sea
what though
you are drawing
your last breath
what though
all the past
would be reduced
to dust--

there your head
you'll still hold high
and look upon
every adversity
without fear
or a single sigh

and claim
'I'm my own
and myself
I don't let down
as a hero never
would I count
even as tears
are welling
I'll complete
the composing
of my anthem
that would sound
nowhere
but only
in my own ears

then myself
I'd have overcome

my anthem then
is my life'.
Verity Lane Apr 2021
She is earth.
And chocolate.
A loud anthem and a roar.

She is good.
And a nourisher.
Guardian of the weak.
Warrior for justice.

She is hope embodied.
Everything I wanted.

She is enough.
And more.
Never too much
and overflowing.

She is earth.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
.sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave
of care,
       the death of each day's life,
   sore labour's bath.
                      balm of hurt minds,
great nature's second course,
  chief nourisher of life's feast.


                                    Macbeth.

awe in omiscron,
and sigh to fire-up a catch
in H...

    profound words,
lesser tunes,
               out from a broken
lyre: a consumate of -
a life lived is but one
concern:
a life remembered is:
but all of
man's concerns...

       in acknowledged
patience:
  i, pertinent -
remove myself from:
what feeds the throng
& the scabs &
      a thrice of
           st. Peter's cockerel...

i: bored of death,
linger with a thought of:
life hardly teasing
a: consumate actor...
hardly second:
             a worthy reciter...

there are islands worth
of heart: in
staging an answer:
said heart, the entombed
stone mind replied:

a bruise no baron
a depth no plum...
a plucked scatter
of colour -
          a plushed
squint of: the forbidden
word.

what a life:
with no sudden endeavour
to fare...
           come aligned
nonetheless...
  and come:
             to the myriad of
a man's inhibited
                 scout:
with a via, no versus:
   with only himself
                           in tow...

it's hardly a surprise...
Leibniz contra
Newton
  and the discovery
of the infinitesimal calculus...
Leibniz?
   became a librarian...
Newton?
   was buried in Westminster
cathedral...
            
   for the content
of heart:
                 one's heart
is not the fruition
of one's mind's ambition...

for the heart:
i come as i please,

for the mind:
          i am forever settled
in conjuring
a disgruntled
      attachment to it:
which i am yet
to dislodge myself
from:
               the acrobatics
of ego:
     and
no psychoanalytical
p.s.
                  
              what world
& precursor stand,
   to heave a worth of self
into:
   by the same
intricacies of demand -
not halved & not feasted upon -
yet consecrate
          by the barbarian
        bitten:
   a chisel & tooth:
to march forth
            a marble stature for:
               the alignment of limbs...

all of this...
for the nought of
a blink's worth of tomorrow...
and a tomorrow:
as beige as what isn't
the number: associated
               with grey...

i have tired -
   extracting superficial
standards for a comparison:
whereby i, am of
the consecration for
the acknowledgement of...
"worth"...

                       this labyrinth
of thought:
         has no i's worth
of a minotaur
       to burden itself with,
& for...

             i am but
a scatter of the freely available
worth of a grasped
                      bundle of
autumn's leaves...
      in that:
the certainty of death...
   precursors a life -
if: not lived toward
attiring itself with a fulfilling
summary...

         leaves me...
in want of:
acribing it...
a denial of the petty
wants of
the people who:
wish upon it a variant
of a shift
in the closed-off
bureaucracy of hierarchies...

enough in the numbers:
to hide
    a failed enterprise
of scratched in text...

           for the concerns of:
when all that once
agitated...
   becomes...
                  exhausting
         to even begin to mind.
Concealed as dust, mysterious past!
Germinating and growing, amazing present!
Perishing as ash,  enigmatic future!
Divine's  craft with five magical elements,a simple story.


The ethereal, unexplored and heavenly open,
Thou are  exceptionally serene and heartgrabbingly deep.
Cosmos! Reservoir of unfathomable secrets.
  Simple  belief...You are the Wonderful Creator!

Undeniably pure quiet and transparent,
Thou are fresh, sweet and healthful.
Air! Source of breath and life.  Simple  fact... You are the Loving Harbinger!


Roaring, sizzling and smouldering flames!
Thou are balancing  equation of births and deaths.
Fire! Consuming and reverting material and mortals to earth.
Simple  logic....You are the Necessary Sustainer!


Incredible pure  and  pleasing,
Thou are delightfully fresh and salutary.
Water! Magic liquid of your buoyant blue sustains us.
Simple truth.... You are the Protective Nourisher.

Dusty, dark brown and enchantingly beautiful.
Thou are  overwhelmingly motherly and miraculously merciful.
Earth!  Ancestors rest in your plentiful layers.
Simple Tale...You are the gentle Giver and the Restorer!

— The End —