Gentle Giant Mistress Poem by Mark Lawmon

What charm
With which the gentle giant
Doth flit away
The worries of a lonely man.
Oh how she soothes all souls
That squander in despair.
With subtlety
She spreads brevity
Though alas without longevity
Yet with unfailing repeatability.
All the heart
Is for a time lifted and made glad.
But in her kindness
Is revealed wickedness.
The levity is but temptation,
Refused only in folly,
Yet transient,
A cruel glimpse of gratification.
The lonely man,
For a short, happy while,
Feels himself not alone,
But embraced by a charming
Woman of the Worldly Wonder.
Then doth the Gentle Giant
Bare her beastly wrath.
The wanderer falls
Far and fast
From the clouds
Into the depths of the sea,
So suddenly out of his depth.
All the sunlit grandeur,
All the moonlit beauty
Are cast out
Like ash and soot
In a smoke-filled room,
Where a grey fog envelopes.
Smothers.
But not so as to suffocate.
Rather so as to tempt.
The man may linger
And in blind wandering
Stumble upon an open window
Whereupon he spies,
In all her splendid glory
That Gentle Giant Mistress.
With her buttresses and façades
She draws him in,
And with her green men
Herds him in the mass.
That faceless throng
All bewitched and scornful.
Slowly is he rushed,
Headlong,
Into the warm bosom
Of that Gentle Giant.
The window closes.