Where The Whisting Waves Die Heavy On The Stilling Sand

There’s a space in time where the whisting waves
die heavy on the stilling sand; where brief
the windbreeze blows in unforceful flutters;
where the Tree Of Life lets a limb-shed leaf
lie fallen ‘pon Her roots in soil scorned;
where vast the mountains stand, with un-clad peaks;
where revant cold quenches the upstart heat
of Life defiant, and of Eden warmed.
Climatic clarity! Emergency
emergent ‘cross – awash tsunamic – th’sea
of consciousness… Rebel’yun ‘gainst our own
rushrace to sculpt that future out of stone!
Truncated time perspective makes unknown
the depths of hurt inflicted ‘pon our home…


Image creditDaniel Leal-Olivas/AFP/Getty Images

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