The world, primordial, lies beneath
God, hermit world, greyclasped, blackened
like the deep rocktomb, vacuous
inside Man’s aching heart and bones.
Stargazing eyes will feed souls struck
by the vastness of all things;
arms stretched beyond mortal trappings
harvest meaning to break the dark
dark is the night of Man’s spirit
who in naissance was cast onto
dirt and gravel, see, one so new
lone, carnal, grabbing from the grit.
We sat, ourselves played out as now
on Time’s precipice, creating
cosmos, companions, attempting
vengeance on Nature’s tooth and claw.
O life where is thy sting? Fable
we smear as salve upon your brief,
ephemeral, transient
loneliness.
Isolation
rocks God’s cradle.
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