Insentient Fire Poem by Barry Middleton

Caught between the antique gods,
and the devil in the heart of man,
I can only turn to the silken stars,
for there dwells a tapestry of mind.

Now we walk the garden alone,
the man and woman but alone,
without the comfort of wisdom,
defenseless against the universe.

Then we must weep in realization
on the banks of this pristine river,
weep with the passion of an orchid
containing the lost tears of spring.

Weep as new creation is being born,
a new legend of star blessed causes
where the breath of universe stirs
passion's fire within insentient dust.

To embrace at last this misty place,
which is the cradle of every child,
is to finally find the truth of truth,
and know its wisdom and its grace.