Continuum Poem by Patti Masterman
Continuum
Perhaps time makes holy grails even of stone
And cathedrals of dense forests:
The next Jesus waits
As a tall poplar
In a petrified forest
And my heart is a stone altar
Yet to be discovered by men with oxen
Before the world falls apart again in fire
And ashes begin to rain from the sky.
Beat your ploughshares into patience
And empty your dream coffers-
The whirling black eye
Is full only of forgetting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 1:07:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Wild, and wonderful words, pure poetry!