The Wash of Fallen Time
What uprightness would shake the earth,
To wake the serpent from the clay?
What puissance couched in holy worth,
Would rouse a brighter day?
I do not reach to catch the fall,
But trace the fracture in the glass,
I do not have the wherewithal,
To stay the storms that pass.
We build our Edens in the mind,
But gratify a fallen fruit,
Irrevocably in a bind,
And woeful at the root.
I watch the blossom break the dark,
And bear the weight of what has grown,
Accursedness and visions stark,
With every evil sown.
The blasphemies that mar the air,
The crime endemic on the streets,
The demons racing debonair,
The wrath my brother meets.
I brave the wash of fallen time,
And pine again for days that were,
The paradise of Eden’s rhyme,
Distorted to a blur.
I revel in the dawning ray,
But battle with the fractured tide,
A benefactor of dismay,
Disconsolate inside…
