Alven L. Robinson
Awaken to the Art
Awaken to the art, the light,
the dark that filters through
the panes, each window blessed
of sight and gain and memories
now tossed into the arid sea.
The leaves of change once lost,
returned as to a hue of fate - -
a brush, a painter's waiting song
of sunset trails feather drawn
across the silent theme.
A torrent born aware, a cascade
to play, both here and twice
upon the cares of night, each stroke
to touch, to climb, to heal
the essence fair in flight.
And there the serpent's reign,
as beauty's riddle born again,
defines the edge of Heaven's view
above the buttes and pines,
beneath the hallowed moon.
For communal soul a vision seen,
a mural surface shone
beyond the dusky glow,
and there the canopy will ring
with winds of burnished gold.
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