Imagine:
Absolute………Isolation,
In the middle of…………Nowhere.
A small child stands,
In awe of each Tree.
From base to balcony,
Swaying arms of Praise,
Reaching ever upward.
Tho’ Autumn shall return,
To reap the harvest of hatred,
As every clinging leaf,
Drops in exhaustion.
A scent of Life unto Death,
Lingers hauntingly,
As candles in a Church,
Melt away the hours,
Of wasted worship.
Her calloused bare feet,
Instinctively knead the soil.
A lone daisy she stands,
Begging of Sunlight.
So distant and elusive,
This nurturing warmth,
That repeatedly kills,
Like broken glass,
Into the seeking eye,
To tear and blind.
She listens…….Again
As the Breath of God
Propels the breeze:
His soothing lullaby.
His standing ovation.
His foreboding whisper.
March 18, 2008
c. C.S. Louise