Ashes Joey Davide
I rest in the sun’s golden radiance, In its promise of warmth and comfort. And I watch the aqueous race of blues, Breaking into piercing, perfect whites. I view from above, stagnant on my back deck, In the path of a gentle breeze, As the stream meanders through the bright-leaved trees.
If it couldn’t remain idyllic, How could I compare?
Nature’s short gusts weren’t able to blow out This perpetual fire burning in my tapered brain. That unleaving thought,
Waxing in my mind, Set the world ablaze, Smoking me from the inside out And from the outside in.
Watching its serenity, Its God-given perfection, I can’t help And want to find that beauty Within myself, Being one of His creations, too.
Even if I wasn’t there, They would have burnt it down anyway, And killed its serenity and its perfection and its beauty.
I, too, would have burnt anyway, right?
Yearning, How could I have noticed The sapphire track starting to lose its runners, Its vibrancy muting into an unassuming ash; Or the wind becoming a whooping-crane- gray that won’t subside; Or the greenery staining a hue more akin to brown? When did they do that?
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