Thomas Stearn Poems

Morning comes,
Citrus turquoise and gold.
Song of the angels serenading the quiet calm
Of fluttering wings in silver light,
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A thought fluttering in the mind
How so very kind,
Puzzles of fear and courage,
Oh what a beautiful mind.
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Autumn is upon us.
Pure, cool air cleanses the senses like a tonic
With fresh husk in the early dawn breeze.
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The moon shines on dusk before the dawn,
For the dawn brings a new beginning
Of hope, happiness and joy.
Darkness cannot cloud the dawn
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On what lands can man aspire?
On what seas does he desire?
Of fruitful treasures he will acquire,
From earth and rock for his empire.
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Days pass in time and place, civilisations rule,
Dressed up men in towering spires, silver in tongue and manner.
And where to man he hath now, of grander schemes one would believe
In deception of the public eye and tales told in lies by spies.
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Night descends in the eyes of a ghost
In the shadows of the secret veil,
Mist casts a blanket in arms of a horde
On the plains of the golden kingdom.
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The red tree, tall in its superior elegance,
Effortlessly glowing, radiant in the golden light
Like a fiery phoenix rising from it's
Sleek smoky ashes, reborn.
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We are what, that exists on this strange rock?
Of complex intricate systems, spiralling into knots.
Who are we in this vast expanding sphere of stars?
Where we are all but a spec of nothingness,
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Towering slopes, clustering masses,
Deep cut intricate crevasses.
Dark ridges sharp and unforgiving
Lay fear to the adventurous living.
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