Procreation Poem by Adryan Barnathan

Swirling pink and purple
on the horizon,
we are a mystery of souls
caught up in the graces of
nature's trickery...

There she stands,
with rays of sunlight
caressing her form,
illuminated,
she hears the cries
of humanities internal wails,
yearning for lust to bloom,
so it can take us back,
back, back, into the womb...

In this crevice of prophesy
even hermits unearth their hearts
believing,
wanting to believe,
that she will ease their cries...

But by storm,
a tundra of corruption drums...
and the season arrives,
when the cords of Spring unravel,
and mother nature fools us, again.


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