Who'Ll Say Imagination Fails? 0939 Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Thesis
Spring sap and summer sun prepare a page
Autumnal sending shivers down the spine.
Nine months gestation, three [s]core years, life's stage
Gives way to Winter woes, wan Death's design.
Though leaves believe in triumph for a space
Of years Time runs rings round ridged wrinkled bark,
Night falls too quickly, few leave lasting trace
As bite turns toothless finds falsetto bark.
Then blue skies turn to grey, youth's chestnut tresses,
Adored once, age transmutes to silver pure,
Life's wick is snuffed by Fate, the trick distresses,
Is trapped by Time, pathology none cure.
And yet, who'll say imagination fails,
When your smile warms, storms cease, new lease lifts scales.

Antithesis
Such themes, of tattered trees, of timber logged,
Are far from sure to forward lover's cause.
Nor are nightmares, white hairs, or blood-lines clogged,
Guaranteed to win true love's applause.
Turn then that page, think rather each day brings
Open space to change, to challenge fears,
New light to shed wrong's stings, to spread strong wings
Anticipating flight beyond frontiers
To which embittered habit often clings.
Accompany imagination, steer
Limitless course which no misgivings brings,
Is both at peace with others, self, sincere.
Acclaimed is tolerance, condemned disguise,
Wellspring flame true fame personnifies.

(23 May 2001)