write-what-you-want blog

The All

Experts on the sun have urged us to hurry,
The glow will only emerge briefly as
Night has called the next turn at stealing from the sky
What has only just been returned.
We leave in a rush for the place with
Nothing like the doors we’ve left behind,
Stumbling along paths made from dirt-stone-and-leaf
With as much speed caution will allow.
Darkening sky has once again indiscriminately
Wielded its ax of fire,
Forever impartial to woods suffering,
With a system of justice all its’ own.
Clouds have cried their tears of joy
For the slicing and admonishing that has
Left fallen arrogant trees;
Their roots had gotten stubbornly stuck within static graves,
Allowing to be forgotten healing consequences of inevitable change
And preventing the arising of new purpose in a world made by sacrificial death
Of wood and creature as they fall back into the earth.

Victim to systems both natural and meek
And those false and arrogant as the trees,
We watch as this world sheds its past,
Turning our heads forever upward to clearing skies,
While listening for the growing sound of burbling water
Which was once a light trickle but is
Now a roar happily leaving us deaf to sounds beyond this haven
Which normally make us deaf.

The sun, sent as indiscriminately as the fire ax was;
Melts the hard earths surface,
Dissolving tears from below
And leaving later hours of the day full
With cool scents of fresh rainwater puddles.
Wary voices too artificial
Wish to drift to us from places left behind
With warning admonishments like,
‘Keep looking down or the mud will make you fall.’
They speak out of fear, never having looked around--
Knowing nothing of what we don’t want to miss,
Something glorious we’ve left all words at home for: