"omnipotence" poems
*erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless
cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence
laced with cobalt shimmering stars
perpetually whole it nonetheless
sought to know itself
encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience
intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor
it shattered into tens of millions of splinters
of eloquent efflorescent light
shining in the night
each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity
began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs
furtively seeking out savory emollients
to mollify the pique of separation
plummeting they fell
into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose
of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness
surreptitious estrangement overflowed
deluging them in excruciating agony
thus an epiphany was born
the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain
created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals
hence enlightenment commenced as the gems
magnetized together constructing a world
where omnipotence shines
the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals
far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light
bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom
flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic
rainbow strobes cascading the sky
©2016janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
the hundred year old stairs
wakes up from its dreamless slumber
to find the world has spun
for an infinity too long
it once roamed
and ruled
the household of Chathanathodi
making way to the rooms
upstairs
that conspired a thousand
whispered secrets
simultaneously
sprawling its termite-infested legs
to make way
downstairs
that injected an aura of
omnipotence
its laddery body was now a little chipped
and its creaky joints, a little shaky
but it didn't matter
as it was still conspicuous
and strong
like Hercules
leading unsuspecting mortals
upstairs and downstairs
to its universe of Gods
Shalini Nayar
© 2001
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
So it is eighteen years,
Helena, since we met!
A season so endears,
Nor you nor I forget
The fresh young faces that once clove
In that most fiery dawn of love.
We wandered to and fro,
Who knew not how to woo,
Those eighteen years ago,
Sweetheart, when I and you
Exchanged high vows in heaven's sight
That scarce survived a summer's night.
What scourge smote from the stars
What madness from the moon?
That night we broke the bars
Was quintessential June,
When you and I beneath the trees
Bartered our bold virginities.
Eighteen -years, months, or hours?
Time is a tyrant's toy!
Eternal are the flowers!
We are but girl and boy
Yet -since love leapt as swift to-night
As it had never left the light!
For fiercer from the South
Still flames your cruel hair,
And Trojan Helen's mouth
Still not so ripe and rare
As Helena's -nor love nor youth
So leaps with lust or thrills with truth.
Helena, still we hold
Flesh firmer, still we mix
Black hair with hair as gold.
Life has but served to fix
Our hearts; love lingers on the tongue,
And who loves once is always young.
The stars are still the same;
The changeful moon endures;
Come without fear or shame,
And draw my mouth to yours!
Youth fails, however flesh be fain;
Manhood and womanhood attain.
Life is a string of pearls,
And you the first I strung.
You left -first flower of girls! -
Life lyric on my tongue,
An indefatigable dance,
An inexhaustible romance!
Blush of love's dawn, bright bud
That bloomed for my delight,
First blossom of my blood,
Burn in that blood to-night!
Helena, Helena, fiercely fresh,
Your flesh flies fervent to my flesh.
What sage can dare impugn
Man's immortality?
Our godhead swims, immune
From death and destiny.
Ignored the bubble in the flow
Of love eighteen short years ago!
Time -I embrace all time
As my arm rings your waist.
Space -you surpass, sublime,
As, taking me, we taste
Omnipotence, sense slaying sense,
Soul slaying soul, omniscience.
4.4k
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Oblivious is the man who claims decorum of extrapolated omnipotence.
The man who has ossified rationalism into an inexplorable ruse.
An attempt to transmogrify inchoate minds, characteristic of apparitions.
Providing illusion as the answer to an obsequious concrescence of naive followers.
Oblivious are the men who follow this decorum.
Their leader keens to their needs.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
552
An ignorance a Sunset
Confer upon the Eye—
Of Territory—Color—
Circumference—Decay—
Its Amber Revelation
Exhilirate—Debase—
Omnipotence’ inspection
Of Our inferior face—
And when the solemn features
Confirm—in Victory—
We start—as if detected
In Immortality—
2.8k
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous
The warrior on the mountain confessed to us
Sordid sully suborn salacious
Only the worst will ever keep pace with us
In extremis extremity exigence exodus
Is the answer clear to all of us
Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue
Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue
Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster
Or just another cauldron muck stir
Mystical magical manumission mandate
That only the good would ever relate date
Fornicating fecund finite's fate
I can only hope it will be I rate
Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery
Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me
Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive
Won't be contained, like water in a sieve
Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled
And all of that surreal newfangled
Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence
How I wish I could float its boat sense
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
I said something profound the other day,
So someone asked me, “Are you God?”
Well, strange as it may seem, I might be!
It’s possible, if unlikely, that I’m the Only One;
A Matrix Hero if you like,
That Everything Else is but a figment from my Super Id:
Perish the thought.
Yet I’ve precious little power
In this world around me now.
I’m just as helpless
As in my dreams.
I’m Not the God Religious folk talk of:
Omnipotence does not spring here.
Dare I suggest, though,
That God isn’t all He’s cracked up to be?
I’ve said before, maybe we All are part of God:
His eyes, ears and touch.
But what IS God?
I have to ask.
We each define Him (or Her, or It)
In our own way.
There must be higher powers
Of some sort
And Star Wars has its “Force”.
All things are Relative
And without end
So find your “God”
And make your choice.
Define your God
In any way you can.
But remember
It’s not your belief in God that counts,
It’s your belief in GOOD.
Paul Butters
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 6:38 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
Death is boring.
Dark, cowled and skeletal,
Exuding a mysteriousness that she fails to fulfill.
Her goals are one dimensional
Though myriad in her often creative
Approach.
Creative after an eternity of
Collection.
God is almighty.
What can you give the man who has everything?
Your faith?
Omnipotence...
Safe bets are seldom captivating.
Unless you’re a criminal stacking the odds
While your fellow man takes the dive
For your gain,
Your glory.
Buddha is just a man.
Enlightened.
He accepted Death’s embrace,
And God’s divinity
Thrusting aside the Devil’s whispered
Temptations.
Yet
Buddha was just a man.
The Devil whispers the sweetest dreams
His voice is a silk melody
Dancing along our nerves
Touching our forbidden parts
“Take her, she wants your ****
Plunge into her moist depths
Sheath your spear,
Spill your seed,
****** hard
Then soft
Find release in her moans
Peace and heaven in her trembling touch.
Her moist lips part
But it is not your name she sounds
Her voice once radiant with lust
With desire
Now drives a shard of hate within, through your still rapidly beating heart.
Cupid speaks another name
Once hard now limp
Pull back, pull out your flimsy ****
Look down into the empty depths of her eyes
See in them another man
Her hunger is sated
Bruised lips mouth the apology your ears refuse to hear
Yet your heart laid bare just moments before
Is pierced anew.
Laugh it off but
The Devil has his hooks in you
Another carcass for the heap
She is the hook, you are the meat
Butchered
The lost leading the sheep to slaughter
Do not fret, you are not finished
Soon you will rise a phoenix from her cooling embers
Golden and resolute
Stronger for having licked her poison
Yet you will know that you are now
A stranger to yourself
You are the hook
Find him some meat
The Devil hunts again.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
677
To be alive—is Power—
Existence—in itself—
Without a further function—
Omnipotence—Enough—
To be alive—and Will!
’Tis able as a God—
The Maker—of Ourselves—be what—
Such being Finitude!
2.2k
If all were created,
before a finger lifted,
all'd be done...
Before a single word be said,
Every creeping crawling thing'd be dead.
No speaking laws, or slaughtered alters,
Or sacrificing ****** daughters.
No ill lessons, of omnipotence,
Omnipresence or deviance,
The vastness of life and time,
Are much too large, to be defined,
By one who's greatness greater than all,
To know we're here, or rule at all,
It's too far fetched to believe it's true,
There's one above, all around, watching you.
And say a god of sorts is real,
Say christ is god what would you feel,
To know his book is spoken true,
To be applied in all you do,
Word for word and verse by verse,
Forever there to be rehersed,
With jealousy and angry might,
His reasons are, beyond our sight,
His omnipotence we can't define,
His intelegence, beyond our mind,
****** **** and slavery,
plagues and death, so hard to see,
The fact he made this all for us,
From each bright star, and nucleus,
just to cast us in a pit,
A fiery hell, a suffrage.
None of it, It makes no sense,
And think most don't believe in chance.
Now close your eyes, and just believe,
Blindly follow each page you read,
For faith is something you must have,
To not see past this broken path,
Of lies and hopes in false intent,
It's god who man came to invent.
Here's a law he wrote himself,
One of ten, to show us help,
And thou shalt worship one alone,
But now there's christ who claims his thrown.
A contradiction from the start,
O how this truth broke my poor heart,
He created all in just six days,
A sabbath rest I'm so amazed.
A day to gods a thousand years,
So look at this, And shed no tears,
He made us in all knowing ways,
But so confused within just days,
He changed his mind, his laws and story,
Then sent one down to claim his glory,
Then Lucifer, what was the point,
His purity, god did anoint,
Then jealousy and pride bestode,
But then again god had forebode,
Let alone freewill was not,
An angel had no choice to taunt,
Made to fill specific needs,
The devil had no other deeds,
God knows all, from start to end,
So if he's real, he's not a friend,
He doesn't love, or know all,
Or have salvation, when we fall.
A deity he is not,
Especially with how he taught.
There're better ways to plan a path,
Simplicity is easy math,
But who am I, I'm just a man,
Created by his clumsy hand.
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 6:23 PM UTC
964
“Unto Me?” I do not know you—
Where may be your House?
“I am Jesus—Late of Judea—
Now—of Paradise”—
Wagons—have you—to convey me?
This is far from Thence—
“Arms of Mine—sufficient Phaeton—
Trust Omnipotence”—
I am spotted—”I am Pardon”—
I am small—”The Least
Is esteemed in Heaven the Chiefest—
Occupy my House”—
2k
Today, I'm going to **** them with kindness.
I'll walk the streets with a skip in my step,
corners of my mouth arched, skin tough.
I will be rubber. I will not be glue.
I will avoid sticks and stones.
I will be Teflon.
Yesterday, I killed someone, with kindness.
I created art, in many ways, I created Hell.
A page filled with gestures may seem ageless, however,
a spectacular self-awareness occurs.
There is closure. There is completion.
Unlike the manipulation of one's face.
There too is completion, but closure is not
always certain. Some leave with last words
that linger. Some lift their arms to The Lord,
Lord hear their prayer. And others find
themselves at peace, living on in the hearts
and minds of others, loved or not.
Is a legacy more important to an Atheist?
That's speculative, I suppose. But if what they
say is true, and most CEO's are psychopaths,
then I would assume that it is. Monetary value
will always triumph over theoretical morality.
And I say that morals and ethics can be theory
to a man certain of his faith, because in the end,
sin can be absolved. Faith in a higher being, in
something bigger than yourself, often leaves
thought of peers as dismissible. For they have
their own demons to overcome.
How do you accept indifference in a system
that is above natural law? Omnipotence should
never be exposed to have a grey area, especially
when it is considered to be set in stone. Oxygen
and gravity aren't, but tell that to a man who
is falling and trying to catch his last breath.
Lastly, consider art.
As the creator, the mastermind hidden in
the clouds to let his work speak volumes.
The divine grace that is told in brush strokes,
in notes placed to play, to be presented.
That's a beauty that is foresaken.
Another key representation of something
seen but not seen.
Even a deaf man delivered notes he could not
hear, rivaled ones able, and challenged normality.
The difference between an artist, and
a person producing art, is that an artist
will use blood, whereas the latter
searches for a comparable color.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
It was the turning point of my youth.
The age I realized,
“If I dig far enough into my mind, I can eventually find gold.”
So I stood in the middle of the street of my hometown, stared into the sky and begged for answers.
(Answers I was too affected to search for in front of me)
It didn’t hear my questions, of course,
so I made up the answers myself and made those answers my religion.
I guess I wanted to feel responsible for my maker’s omnipotence.
Always feeling misunderstood, I ignored those who opposed me and opened my ears to those alike. I sang along and sang into a mic like I was atop a podium.
I felt special and entitled.
I wanted to be heard like the rest of them and die with my shrill cry echoing for all eternity until eternity died.
Now, I’m beginning to see my skin fold and my eyes inflame.
I look back on past thoughts and deride.
How embarrassing it is to have zero experience and claim to have lived like you’ve lived nine lives.
Since, I’ve thrown out many records along with my many bloated ideas
because my neck has become exhausted from holding my thick nose in the air.
And my religion keeps shrinking the drunker I get with loneliness
and now I finally have room to see who my maker has made: a faker.
All my idols are ********
Dressed as angels
All my idols are crooks
Dressed as victims
All my idols are artists
Dressed as… well… whoever they want you to see.
Almost as well dressed as me
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 9:49 AM UTC
I say to you,
I grow in your garden
as you grow in mine.
I grant order and chaos,
no move is yet to play out.
I am All,
all in All....
beginning ending,
beginnings endings.
Co-creating
in this non-creation,
between blurred lines.
It is there as Humankind you stand..
Male and Female,
galaxy amid galaxy.
I give you azure for pleasure,
darkness abides in good measure
beyond this world waits great treasure.
The service I ask of you is short lived and simple..
Love, love yourself, love one another, .. just love.
I am not away on business
as some would suggest,
I have not forsaken
any of my Creation.
I am always moving in,
always moving out..
forever turning on,
forever turning off.
It starts and it ends and it starts again to end again,
Impotence amid Omnipotence, a Mystery never to be solved,
always to live and to die moment by moment.
I am beyond your Imagination,
you dwell in my imagination..
in my image you have your Being.
You will never stand alone,
you are always a part of this dance
in the endless stream of much more.
I carry you
gentley through
soft currents
as well as rocky rapids.
My words to you
do not dwell in a book,
They are alive and bring life.
You were born to create this day,
this Day, the only thing new
under the sun..
Your freedom of will leaves you
to create evil as well as good,
your choice yet not your choice
being forged out of my choice.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel,
you are the Light passing through the tunnel.
You have forgotten who you are,
who you were, who you will be.
Fret not... I come to remind you of the abundance
that is at your fingertips. To help you to turn away
from the notion of scarcity. All you need, you have..
All you will ever need you already have.. you will it to be
At times not knowingly. I am here to move you towards clarity.
You can end the fight bleeding and on the ground
or just not get in the ring... your choice yet again.
Free will is just that..
it is not without consequence.
Ignorance of Universal law is no excuse,
the domino being pushed they tumble into a future which is here
along side the past, only the moment... infinite.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
Say, heav’nly muse, what king or mighty God,
That moves sublime from Idumea’s road?
In Bosrah’s dies, with martial glories join’d,
His purple vesture waves upon the wind.
Why thus enrob’d delights he to appear
In the dread image of the Pow’r of war?
Compres’d in wrath the swelling wine-press groan’d,
It bled, and pour’d the gushing purple round.
“Mine was the act,” th’ Almighty Saviour said,
And shook the dazzling glories of his head,
“When all forsook I trod the press alone,
“And conquer’d by omnipotence my own;
“For man’s release sustain’d the pond’rous load,
“For man the wrath of an immortal God:
“To execute th’ Eternal’s dread command
“My soul I sacrific’d with willing hand;
“Sinless I stood before the avenging frown,
“Atoning thus for vices not my own.”
His eye the ample field of battle round
Survey’d, but no created succours found;
His own omnipotence sustain’d the right,
His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night;
Beneath his feet the prostrate troops were spread,
And round him lay the dying, and the dead.
Great God, what light’ning flashes from thine eyes?
What pow’r withstands if thou indignant rise?
Against thy Zion though her foes may rage,
And all their cunning, all their strength engage,
Yet she serenely on thy ***** lies,
Smiles at their arts, and all their force defies.
1.8k
Death....
Death walks
on two feet
Saunters up
to you and me
Death,
Death comes
In night and day
In sun and rain
In joy and pain
Death comes for us on our day
In our way
Death....
Whisks you away
Takes you away from the pain
Death....
Whisks you away
Whispers are all that remain
Death comes in every shape
Death comes in any form
Silent as a shadow
And violent as a storm
Death...
Death crawls
on all fours
Has no mercy
for kings or ******
Death,
Death comes
For rich and poor
For saintly and sinful
Despised and adored
Death comes to all things in time
Just wait in line
Death....
Whisks you away
Takes you away from the pain
Death....
Whisks you away
Whispers are all that remain
Death comes in every shape
Death comes in any form
Silent as a shadow
And violent as a storm
Death...
Slithers
Into our hearts
And through our veins
Into our art
Death lives
Inside our souls
In all of life
It waits and grows
Death comes each and every day
Hides until it's time to play
again....
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Of the thousand reasons there is no God…
yet god lives in the thousand and First;
humility
Of all the Homos, One persists
by feasting upon the Fruit of a Tree;
Humanity!
A human ***** full of Pride
will ignore that which sharks abide;
the LAW
And ‘God struck down upon the deck
while Atheism commands all Ahoo and knows
the flaw.
Man adorned with all Its accoutrements
of flaked flint and purified plutonium
submits
to the Universe Man thinks He creates
until the noose of Its laws ‘round His neck
persists
To all God’s creatures past present
and future there is one dubious Gift;
Sentience
Whose edge is but one of a pair
and threatens the user with that ‘other edge’;
Common sense
God in his omnipotence stands all alone
despite what demons, angels lambs and fishes
Plan
So He creates a Tree to tempt His dust to rise
and contemplate the distance between He and
Man
If man is truly God’s image writ tolerably small
then what is man without a notion of humility at all?
He is ‘god’ with the power of an infant in tantrum’s fit
with Entropy standing ready to swallow all of It.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
Fairness!
vast, equal ideas that claim to propose the similarity of wave particle to the icecaps!
the relation of a quasar to a trampoline!
the formation of matter resulted solely so that sixty-seven hours of detention could be issued to retain and break the spirit of contradictory efforts!
I heard such fond words about the so-called real world!
a reality measured in it's invisibility!
measured in the lock and chain of binding expressionless touch!
Freedom!
I embrace you as a brother
your words and games fit me so snugly!
drag me into false kingdoms!
I am willing!
your vapor trails, I find intoxicating
your summers, endless
I renounce all desire to move anywhere but up and into your ever-seeing heat gaze!
whose red stare coats the sky and ground
your primitive, machine gun logic
I am pierced by your omnipotence!
you claimed my brothers, now claim me!
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 11:23 AM UTC
What if you're the addict that has accepted the first step a long time ago, while lines tallied up against years, and once familiar folk have given up hope long after patience; there's you first squatting in the corner of a house you barely know, with people you just met, and you shoot water in your veins, now on bent knees, praying this water is holy enough to ease the pain. The immaculate fix.
Arms outstretched, facing east and west, needles as big as nails delicately caressing the flesh and resting on sweaty palms, emaciating by way of lust and fear. No Will. No Power of Attorney. No Will Power.
They say Adam walked with Eve in the garden, and it was Eve that bit the apple. But you never hear the part about Adam killing Eve with silence. Adam was the snake. And of course above, and beyond, omnipotence comes with the added responsibility of design. "Would you consider yourself a Type A personality or a Type B personality?" The doctor asked.
One suicide and one admission to the psych ward should always be coincidental, but in case it's not and silence becomes deadly you must keep a straight face. Let the guilt mentally choke you, like a murderer choking the life from their victim. You look around the ward to find that there are no staircases. But empathy and keeping that straight face will lead to discharge, and programs, and twelve steps.
And you know when you get to that final step, it takes only one more
to push off and fall away.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
Prejudice implications of a zealous mind
Hypocrisy, your piousness defined
Don't explain the visions you claim to see
Omnipotence, embracing the oblique obscurity
So Sick of your fundamental ways ; tried true hypocrite
Don't push your anachronistic views on me ;
I am so sick of it.
Your religious persuasion is just an exchange of confusion
Please keep your hands and thoughts to yourself
Reverent Lip Service, Fanatical Delusion
I am sorry that I gave you the impression that I cared.
Awake, awake my dear when will you awake
Suffering delusions caused by 2000 years of crusades
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
a series of negations
notated through angles
cascading, effervescent
in my life and wayward
my creation
an algorithmic error
personalized, recapitulated
almalgams of ones ones and zeros
looking back I see that sometimes
I would stitch together
turning melodies
from the sinews of the noise
I took from their bellies
but mainly, back then
I just drooled red into the clamor
-
a decade later I possess
striking imagery
my very own proverb
on visual omnipotence
but its tacky doesn’t oblige me
no more than the sheets of apathy
I peeled from my skin
I found a purpose that flows through my ears
and with it, happily I am
taken away
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
The skies reek of a certain vastness,
one that can be tenebrous and gloomy, or lustrous in its omnipotence.
I gaze up at it sometimes, letting thoughts scarcely run through my mind.
I let my eyes consider each color on the horizon, and
become confused and fuzzy as the light fades, stars igniting into focus.
At times, the trees can become one with the sky:
their branches reaching into the Heavens, hoping to pull out a piece of the celestial.
Rustling leaves blot out burnished stars.
You may think trees only grow so tall for the stars, their lovers. The starlight
quenches an Evergreen’s thirst that rain cannot.
Under a thick blanket of moon and dim, every sound gets much-deserved attention.
My ears catch crickets singing of desire, or wind fondling the tops of trees.
Yet, as the sun follows its arduous ascent into the fragment of sky I’m gifted with,
another dawn takes place. A dawn of realization.
The beauty that our world has seized and evolved with will always
go unappreciated.
Strangely, the evanescence of a human life is expected, mourned, and understood.
However, the pulchritude of the world shall always be a mystery to one person or
another.
I will forever live in awe of this planet, and in fear of the surrounding universe.
Power pulsates from the earth, shivering the planet into seasons and disasters.
It has always been, and will forever be.
And yet, the world cares so little of me.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC