Asclepius, in days when we are young,
The Music of the Spheres we first hear sung!
Through straining then, to listen and to learn,
What revelries of truth one may discern!
But we are not conceived as angels are:
A thousand mindless cares our minds must mar,
Whose troubled tides, through time, turn tyrannous tsar.
‘Tis ever and of needs a sorrowful grace,
To see a distant beauty, but in trace,
And know it is no work of mortal race.
The new sun hath risen again and shone
O beauteous sun, its flawless perfection it hath shown.
Thus light from it wast of haven impeccably urged,
For the destiny of its evil deeds’ concomitant wast yet purged.
None hiatus in the mist of its smirk to bepaint its gross,
Nor that that it loved so dear, so soon in oddly loss;
To shine t’other side wast its splendour but nought its wish
Nor to scald so deep to clear mistemper’d waterfalls upon earthly dish;
And never to wither the grass in the rejoicing forest,
But to make it lucid of aridness in the brawl against the worst:
The sight of its rays hath misgiven yet some consequence of despise,
Which somewhat didst profane pilgrims all made to paradise.
God asked: ’Sun, would thou likest to pray and die or livest and eat pie?’
The sun smirked, portentous in its tyrannous chariot; and chose to die.
Winter closes its firm grip
And sucks the warmth of the world
By unleashing its frosty breath.
Every trace of life shivers at the certain death
Foretold in winter's icy touch.
Desperate for want of spring's beauty,
Green spurts of vibrant color perk up
From the chilled ground layered with snow.
Greedy to its last breath,
Winter steals all.
None can live amidst the icy encasing.
None can thrive whilst winter reigns supreme.
Warmth burrows deep into the cold ground
To be nearer to Earth's warm warm heart.
Bright bursts of color flee before the tyrannous lord.
Animals holding fires of warmth in their chests
Withdraw from the frigid air berating their bodies.
Delicate leaves part from their mother tree
And rest rejected beneath white snowy oppressors.
Always winter will conquer.
The poets sing of it.
The artists worship it.
We seek it in gardens,
find it in dreams.
I shrink from the mirror
because I’m a slave to it;
a serf to beauty’s tyrannous queen.
Dormant aspirations lie in winter's fallow ground
Burgeoning freedom furrowed in shallow soil; sovereign elements do pound
Infertile seeds in barren hearths tightly wound
A cold wind from on high scourges each, desolate mound
A dreary drizzle from hovering, satin crowns seeps deep; hopes are drowned
Nutrients for spawning growth are leached; blighting tentacles surround
Ambition suppressed, inactive period of malaise doth abound
In due season, warming rays of light shine thawing frozen hearts
Incubating innate desire to fulfill individual destinies, from chained depth departs
In destitute minds, a burgeoning sprout of liberty starts
Branching forth into fertile souls, intestinal fiber imparts
Taking root, it spreads deep, penetrating shielded ramparts
A fragile frond from each wavering limb darts
Triumphing in tyrannous environment, a fruitful future charts
********^^^^^^^********
Loose
Such pounds
Triumphant
Light as feather
Calories - metabolated,perspired.
Oppressive and tyrannous weight in arms
Manumitted
Light-weighted
Looser
Wins.
********^^^^^^^********
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