Poetry Corner

The Rejection Of What One Calls Transition
(it‘s how we survive)

I don't need much as your generous warmth is felt
in fragments of the locked embrace in a vibrant heat,
that in fact doesn't really know what's the meaning of a verb
as, to melt, as we eagerly sit down together now to repeat and repeat

So, yes early this morning I wanted to greet the inviting rainbow
but it was not there in the name of a marked colorlessness,
as I guess I'm not pronounced green like the crown
of the young trees that are staring at me,
as they wave as well as they confess

And, the test of time beckons and beckons
while it has me in its spell, in its overall power,
nevertheless I fight for those flown away years that have actually passed away with each minute and with every hour as did the arcane shadow of the bouquet of wilted field flowers

But, I know it's an unequal struggle that no one can win
against that powerful army of life that observes my steady decline
while I see myself fight and fight to strive
as Lord tells me it's quite possible that there's actually
no reason to complain, because dying is in fact something like a transition, a special wink of the Lord's eye that oddly enough teaches us sometimes how to act in life and even how to truly remain

Thus, while the enticing rainbow strides and strides
to come a little closer with each and every day,
it colors life just like only a rainbow can do that
in its pronounced, humble way
as each of us clings to the beacon that's based on the fact
that it could have been worse, before we're jet-setting up into the open sky to go and fly along with the birds