A vision flashed upon my inner eye:
As though lost stars had fallen through the deep
Where heavy clouds moved slowly to and fro,
Stirring the restive layers down below.
The woodland sank to sleep in vine and leaf,
Herbs, trees, and blooms woven in silent wreaths,
Answering the quiet call of dusk.
We caught a fleeting, golden moment there,
Under the gaze of daylight’s final hour,
Beside the sea’s eternal, pulsing tide.
The sun still rises, sets by timeless law,
Designed since birth to quicken and sustain
The forest green, the hidden depths of earth,
The distant planets, and the river streams
That pour their waters out into the sea.
Through light and shadow, life moves ever on,
An endless race along a well-worn path.
We sense the elements, untamed and wild,
Free from the rigid grids that humans build;
A vital current stitched into the earth,
As vast and strange as tracking stormy clouds
That brew above a dark and trembling field—
A fleeting sign, a prelude to the storm.