An Act Of Birth, Is An Act OF Dying

Written by: derrick burton

Blackness moving slowly into light!

becoming one existance

The stars gather like flocks of birds.

See the colors mix and mingle

Creating the perfect shades of colors, the

most beautiful blue and yellow.

Funny how words could form such a savage thing.

                                                            2

These islands come apart

Gods fingers pulling them into various directions

By his very words they are released.

Morning and nights wed, but they are never

essembled as one.

                                                             3

Out of some experiment called love?

To see us form into flesh and blood

And obeying of water slowly, a piece of dirt

appeared.

Spreading as far as the eyes can see

Its water circled the new dirt, and calm and 

sometimes sea's prevail!

Birth of nations!

                                                                4

The beautiful green, red, yellow, orange and

other shades of our humanity, vibrant fields I seek

and found before the eyes of the almighty.

New species arise, what perfection...

                                                                   5

The heavens speak of many moods, and speaks

to us to know the time, are signs and marks of seasons.

Our days and years combined to reason. Two emotions.

One to sleep and the other to wake, His return on earth cometh

as lightening

And will cease the same by partened clouds and running

horseman, out of the clouds into earth.

And then the ocean filled with the wild and tamed

 A whisper into their hearts and souls to multiply

and above the sea which holds the sky, movements of

graceful wings sour the clouds freely, and glide beneath

a wise space

Below a newly born star.....

 

                                             6

 

Atlas!  the earth has formed to paint these?

and soon our hands which once held silence

and our hearts held peace! this is good

The earth is spinning, the oceans flowing, our blood passing

the woman exist, our beast wondering, the friut so bright!

This is good!  Out of the garden. The murder of innosence

Into our ever lasting taste for flesh, obsession and power

Our need for greed and death! The birth of sin!

                                                        7

 

Atlas! the setting and rising, our beating hearts

and pulse which slows its rythem by the generations

Generations fade.. nearly rythemless life beats as the dying rose

Entering winter.

Rest.