Vernon Witmer Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

The Mother of All

It comes to us naturally, 

Passing easily through 

All walls of resistance, 

Dripping with beauty,

Clothing itself modestly 

In the simplest of ways, 

Never suspecting it is the sun, 

The Mother of all, 

The birth of everything, 

Hiding its ferocity 

With the control 

Of a purring lion, 

While its irresistible 

Force of abandonment 

Lurks beneath 

The idle of a great engine.

There, it waits 

For the measure of 

Its next massive moment. 

When it will release 

An unfathomable power.

The one possession 

Every soul 

So longingly awaits:
 
The Truth

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