Black Diamond Night
Life is a cruel wench, a beckoning tramp, she is.
Sprawling wide open to draw us into her erotic nectar.
She whispers lurid words which promise to forestall
The imminent erosion, of illusionary perfection.
The promise of a tomorrow? Few have the inherent structure,
To challenge her guile, humming quiet, sweet victory.
Only the ancient one, who hides beneath our vision,
When wrenched from the rock, is still perfect in her imperfection.
Dawn loses its battle to dusk, and returns again to be defeated
In an endless, biblical battle. The waves wash up on the shore
Wrenching the sands from pounded beaches; only to spew up
Again and be dumped ashore by the evenings rushing tides.
I lie on my back, on a beach, gazing up at dark stars,
On this black diamond night, sadly, wiser.
Brenda Molmod Atry 8/14/2012