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The Smallest

A flame of eternity burns within the smallest flower
Mad wonderful color bursts before your eyes
then dies. dwindling. withering again.
Who comes to stand before you in the winter rain?
wearing the coats of seasons past the worn paint
softly fades into particulate interstices of blue,
Here there are awful skies of gorgeous antiquity
Hydra headed bellwethers adorned in Christmas watches
Promises of borrowed time and secret methods untold
Locksets being made to rekey the world,
There are seas without land without bottoms without end
Ships creak and tremble in their oaken bones to venture
a sail here there are poison vessels growing in power,
A flame of eternity burns within the smallest flower. . .



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 647 times
Written on 2012-12-15 at 16:17

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Lilly Negoi
...and a circle closes with that last line reminding of the first. this poem of yours makes me think how big actually is "the smallest" thing (flower or anything else). bookmarked - for that and not only for that.
2012-12-18