Tempest

spells of infernal debate
as half-bred sheep bleating
temper’d scorch
joust furiously for Celestial Harem
all unsted suitors rout’d
into rabid stampede

hear th’ unholy choir from the Post?
souls of afterdeath scourg’d
unmercifully
their waxes perspiring to infinite
swarms of disharmony
even towards the self?

Forecast?

a dromedary I’ve become
on what’s left
of ice and sea

‘twas this another cycle
by Nature’s hand?

or by industry
and a turbulent cloud
by covetous ancients
who cared only
for their own lifetime?

Time

for Itself…
slower than Silence

never born
never dying

hatching
virgin Emptiness
to fire and rock
to breast-feeding seas
to roots and lungs

till all becomes ash
fertilizing                                         
hatching
fortuitous Newness

but
for Us…
faster than Light