Betty B. Holmes
Synchronous Ritual - Poem by Betty B. Holmes
Mistakenly I anticipated the beauty prematurely.
Impulsively jumping to conclusions.
But nature constitutes her own by-laws,
Requiring all subjects follow suit or fall.
The death of the harvest must come to pass.
Conceiving of the fetus depends on this.
Life follows death, death follows the harvest.
The grave becomes a womb, holding the incubating cocoon.
Genesis depends upon a natural chain reaction
Else it's out of sync with universal transition.
If reckless abandon is allowed to rule the play,
The masters' plan of evolution will be lost in decay.
From the death of the harvest life spring forth anew.
Transmigratory wonder, perennial avenue.
Comments about Synchronous Ritual by Betty B. Holmes
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye