Thursday, May 3, 2012
Different and distinct speak voices three:
The first seems a dark prophet of despair,
The next foretells of brighter, things more fair,
Third philosophises on what it sees.
And yet it’s in one mind that dwell the three,
Just as countless others abide in there,
It being both a warm and shadowed lair,
Like birds and worms atop or ’neath a tree.
It’s from a single fountain that these three
Have sprung with misty rainbows in the air,
Have trickled dirt and such malignance where
A strong new river makes its way to sea.
An entity of complex composition
Brings both bloom and weeds into fruition.