The surface of a frozen sea is torn
With rills and ridges, rimy building blocks
Cast down at random by an architect
Insane or angry, or too drunk to care
About arranging his materials
Into a semblance of an ordered room.
Auroræ play pastel beams on pale cliffs.
Crevasses hide in shadow as the sun
Scrapes the horizon. Silence shivers, stark.

But from this flotsam of chaotic floes
Twin icebergs nudge their crests into the air.
Their domes ride diffidently, soft, scarce seen
Amidst the snowy scarps. They slumber. Yet
Beneath the jumbled and distressed terrain
Inverted massifs hang, hidden and huge.
Two giants veil their faces. No one knows
The benthic currents pressing on their keels —
The forces that will stir their souls to wake.

We are those icebergs, you and I. Great hearts
Are snagged and smothered underneath the heaps
Of daily happenstance ... tangled and trapped
By this-and-that-ness piled upon our lives ...
Held fast by icy manacles ... until
One day — crash! crack! — the mountains move. Two minds
Trembling together can free themselves. We sail
South, to a proud and fearsome rendezvous:
To melt into the ocean of the world.

Wednesday, February 28, 2001 at 20:07:41 (EST) = 2001-02-28

TopicPoetry

(correlates: StirTheStonesToSong, Comments on OozeOnVerst, PyramidPeaking, ...)