Robert Kane

Wither - Poem by Robert Kane

one day to die,
your stained glass wings
windows without walls.
A cathedral of flight
fills spring air,
numberless duelling
in a helical dance,
no thought of love,
life succeeds death,
as fragile forms
quickly wither.

no leaden weights
could ever soar
in such harmony.
By the breeding dance
you are called to sky,
paired and bonded
and bound for life.
Avian passion
or instinctive facade?
Such power yet still
apt to wither.

Alaska's pride.
Two solid tears
cut through liquid air,
swimming slow as sorrow,
recalling home
and mourning a land
left eons before.
Breaching the plane,
transiting in age,
two hundred years
yet you wither.

Entwined oak
and mistletoe.
In mystic glade
with lightning's kiss,
Taranis' seed
penetrates indeed
your millennial dub,
as evergreen shrub
enshrouds perennial,
pulling life from soil
and sap from tree,
you wither.

Breathing sea,
embracing coast,
stroking the earth
in a tidal caress,
kingdoms rise and fall,
though shores endure
cunning Canutes
and marauding boats
and lives ephemeral.
Even land is brittle,
from oceanic temper
does it wither.

Mount Kailash,
Shiva and Gauri rest
on that crystalline crest,
a wave, frozen in rock
but surging in time,
foam white horses
ride the breaking
of oceans undying.
The eternal couple
patiently abide
those thrusting ridges,
as they wither.

Sister moon,
pirouetting earth
in a finite waltz
about Atum-Ra.
What could cease
their whirling embrace?
Cause mutual release
from gravity's grace?
An eviscerating killer
plucked unprovoked
the prior incarnate's
black heart hither.
Elysium withered.

Radiant light
from a long dead star
may move untouched
across the void,
far from its source,
until beyond sight,
beyond space,
beyond time.
Only then may it claim
to my love for you.

A force so pure,
fearless, untouched.
No transitory lust,
no tie that binds,
no tears for the past,
no stifling of heart,
no subtle erosion,
no tectonic seduction,
no fatal intrusion.
A love words cannot describe,
beyond space,
beyond time,
beyond metaphor,
where nothing which is
may wither.

Topic(s) of this poem: love

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Poem Edited: Monday, May 1, 2017

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