Quote from
DevonB on September 2020, 12:24 pm
Water Cycles
Desiccation.
Desert is a pot boiled dry.
Far and star-charted, splitting
at its seams in vastness.
It has given its all and all
as tribute, becoming
the essence of aridity.
Its barrenness once knew
the blessing of Poseidon’s moisture,
Now yielded as evaporation to the sun.
It was enamored with her brightness.
Much as the Sea-king pursued Demeter,
transforming himself into what, he hoped,
would pause her,
cause her unfolding.
Panting, the wasteland pitched itself
as a sandstorm
towards its dream of oneness
with the earth-star.
With dry lips, cracked from hot breath,
desert willed itself possession of amberness, the golden.
Dreamed it within heart.
What was once green-ness faded into
the reddish brown of sand,
that was once bed of sea,
filled with salted water.
All cried away now,
an ocean sacrificed,
drop by drop,
to beauty as the other.
But wait, there is one bead
that now remains, the last one.
In Taoist form, the night cools.
The wind comes up, and hard
and soft collide into their opposite.
Rain begins to fall.
Devon Burris
Water Cycles
Desiccation.
Desert is a pot boiled dry.
Far and star-charted, splitting
at its seams in vastness.
It has given its all and all
as tribute, becoming
the essence of aridity.
Its barrenness once knew
the blessing of Poseidon’s moisture,
Now yielded as evaporation to the sun.
It was enamored with her brightness.
Much as the Sea-king pursued Demeter,
transforming himself into what, he hoped,
would pause her,
cause her unfolding.
Panting, the wasteland pitched itself
as a sandstorm
towards its dream of oneness
with the earth-star.
With dry lips, cracked from hot breath,
desert willed itself possession of amberness, the golden.
Dreamed it within heart.
What was once green-ness faded into
the reddish brown of sand,
that was once bed of sea,
filled with salted water.
All cried away now,
an ocean sacrificed,
drop by drop,
to beauty as the other.
But wait, there is one bead
that now remains, the last one.
In Taoist form, the night cools.
The wind comes up, and hard
and soft collide into their opposite.
Rain begins to fall.
Devon Burris
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