(something brighter to account for all the bleakness, written at the height of summer)
I drink the sun,
Stealing draughts of its bountiful light,
Fixing my gaze on the beaming one,
While giants awaken beyond sight,
Bounty of the treasury of light,
Gleaming corona adorned in rite.
I could alight, turn to run,
But the melody here binds me,
Do not turn from what’s begun,
Singing thru dancing shades hazy.
About you rear tiny fissures,
Pressures long since boiling,
Grievances that yawn geysers,
Spray from all their toiling,
Why they’ll carry you off,
Settling forgotten scores,
Like those foaming Goths,
Roaming up to Rome’s doors,
Having lost the thread of their great cause,
Why I think you’ve got some stay in you,
Not to get bogged down like the rest,
Easily you bear weighty history too,
To be unmoved is the only test,
You our little ingénue,
Fire-thief,
’Tis the future to wrest,
The silo’d mind, the turning,
And willful burning,
Don’t you crack while all is cracking,
Don’t drown in insecurity,
We’ll need all your skill in mending,
All your vision and vitality,
Upon which we are depending,
How fair you look when you wrestle,
How bright at the world’s ending.
The Emergent Sea 