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Saturday, 23 July 2011 13:52
Tuesday, 21 July 2009 13:56
Each sun-ripened berry upon the stem,
A lusty gem, too soon is claimed by dust –
Aglow, is a ruddy, opaque emblem
Flaunting fire in face of winter’s disgust.
Thereafter, brave soldiers – these bright crimson spots
Collapse as mere specks of skeletal red.
Wrinkled old men, dying, deserted on cots –
Each life will flick – free! from a frozen death-bed.
Unceasing this cycle smiles on the world,
While life’s logic can’t grasp its own reason;
Not comprehending why death was unfurled
And so frustrated souls cry out, “treason!”
Yet does this meaningless death-striking chord
Wield hope? Only Life can follow such a sword.