Creation as Comes from Chaos

As cave-dweller O man, thou wert crudest, Ere nigh modest and a bit civil made, In a painstaking long march to the crest, ye evolved as seed of creed mutated, And struggled hard before ye succeeded, Many a weed lose ere mutate in maze, In labyrinthine lanes with darkness spread, From chaos were created newer ways. There's no growth that would never get modest, Nor a head that has not hesitated, In time all progress tends to pause post haste, In time as brightest rainbows tend to fade— It’s nature of Nature none can evade What happens in a long phase, not in days, To vales turn mountain peaks that get jaded, Creation as comes in chaotic ways. For eons hast hope touched its vales and crest, Surviving in cosmic womb, never dead, Suffering no birth pain to manifest, Remember, beyond that tall mountain head Lies your fond dream, so walk on, go ahead, Life lives in peak nor vales, watch not from base, Set not your peak too high, nor deep vales dread, A way forward comes in chaotic ways. Envoi Keep climbing, if hope be the only aid, Inhale hope in every breath, don’t just gaze, When at end of rope, hang on by hope led, For, from chaos are born morrow’s fairways. __________________________________________ Musings | 03.02.2011 | Hope Poet’s note: Heart, it seems, lives on the edge of hope; but the brooding mind delves into new depths, meandering, groping for a way out. Seeing the way much of the world is moving today, I too oft indulge in melancholic thoughts. Has man lost all hopes? I don't know but hope, it’s not so. Yet, civilization, I suspect, is an inverted bell-shaped curve. Things go verse before they get better. Read also my ‘Hope: A bird wordless that sings', a ballade.