He held in that day of beginnings the makings of a seed,
Made ready the sod with a tear-soaked smile
And watered the youth with the sweat of his hands
While breath mixed wind served life to its leaves
Innocent, wet with the sap of its birth
Flimsy and green its arms reach back in naïve praise
Its two branches enforced by three to hang great weights
His boughs made ready to bow to its cause
Its depth nursed of that same fruit it would bear
Always greeted by the Light, with a cloud,
Tenderly raised to great heights at the center of the world
Rising only to see the universe weeping on its shoulder
No comments:
Post a Comment