Creatures Divine Poem by Mark Heathcote

There's a bridge between beauty and vanity.
And beneath it, bitter troubled waters flow,
and on either side-
banks of wild static flowers grow.
But their geniality is not the same.
One has advanced into wily forest vegetation,
vines and ferns aching to be young again
searching for flawlessness bent on perfection.

The other triviality of youth melting like snow,
a little insecure overtly demure
frothing at the mouth, warming to the end of spring;
under a magical spell …yearning to mature.
But both are summoned-
from the same ancient river source
and in truth, both are intertwined,
in truth, ego is theirs, yours, and mine,
we are all beautiful creatures divine?