One day they too will go,
these lines across the longitudes
and meridians – the realities of countries,
effaced and forgotten.
She will look upon that world –
tears will flow;
a message – bleak and sorrowful,
will fall as oceans once safe, brim up
overturning the ancient lands of evening.
Is her Love the face of Time,
that we, her children annihilate each other,
go extinct without knowing why?
If I could touch this circling orb
blinking under my hands
(the turning colors
splashed across this morning’s radiant light)
by some inner necessity –
a logic at once chaotic and real –
and stop it, bring it to the still point
where all spheres run their course;
make it change before my very eyes,
like some bandit of the skies
traveling free, would we
be surprised by this impossible feat;
begin to laugh or cry, join hands
in the festival of life, again?
– Steven Craig Hickman ©2015 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.