The Warmth Below

Sung in ribbons is the breeze,
As it slips between leaves.
Swept in ripples is the pool,
As the moon shivers in blue,

And sweet in warmth are we,
As we breathe unto this scene,
With gentle touch of dew,
We will soon,
Be.

Like chutes of mirth,
We trickle through earth.
Our roots knuckling deep,
Our fruit to never keep.

But if we rise, our chests will fall.
And eyes will fade, tears will scrawl.
We lay in hold, fastened to stone.
We know no cold, but forever alone.

Leave your reflection behind,
To seek what you find.
And know no breath of toil,
But the gasp and grasp of soil.

And when rest has come,
Your body will be one,
And you will slip below,
To join us in this warmth,
And grow.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed