contemplativeTouching Clouds
I once saw Holy in the woods
far above rest of life
with their trunks so near to hand
arboreal creatures reaching up
majestic crowns that challenge fate
an aberration that took my breath
trees so straight they broke the air
shattering sky like arrows shot
the shards rained down to the ground
amongst the scrub and bushes strewn
atop the bones of giants fell
by their age or nature’s curse
defiance of the lower realms
failed the fauna thought most blessed
when the rot consumes the corpse
they’re reduced by fallen grace
I relate to both these themes
seeing God and touching Hell
across the years of standing tall
the cycle turns for all kinds
I’ll exist the best I can
touching clouds of deity
while knowing feet are made of clay
baked by fire in furnace heat.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180114.
