Four Squared Towards Perfection.
EARTH:
Blossomed and beaten, then nurtured and tilled,
Burnished and buckled, soon blackened and chilled.
Partisan, personal, some conquered and fought for,
Torn down and built up, all bartered, yet paid more.
WIND:
From every corner they blow, shrill cadence and call,
The moist warmth of spring, the crisp cuddle of fall.
They will ravish the birds, they will ravage machines,
Wild whimsies of women who are caught in between.
FIRE:
He crackles orange glee what our passion remembers,
Popping scarlet orbs swiftly from footprints in embers.
All forms he has known from a cave mans' first shout,
He is quite lovely to look at, but truly deadly left out.
WATER:
Surging and crashing, cresting angry steel gray,
Receding and cleansing, churning vivid green spray.
Now becalming bright topaz, her skin liquid jewel,
She beckons the sailor and beguiles the brave fool.
All stood before time as steadfast witnesses would.
God creates, not abates. We can not. But HE could.
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