For I

From nether within

When aplomb petals replete cuddly amidst mazy meadows
In milieus of lushness—nay silhouette shadows—
Shall, in sameness in spur of moment
Hear the tocsins of death-knell
Squeal silent howling
As I pouch in tulip’s couch
Alas!
The bargepole shall cease to roll
And I know
That life, my conviction
Sure, since nature beknownst shall
Face east in earliest morns of some morrow
Cos’ yoke I care
Of whirrs from eastly vistas and thenceforth I air
Maybe not sproutly with fleece of every sun I wear
Nor bosom in many shriveling moons, I dare
Nor clad in shadows of needle pine
Of desiccate grounds in bitter wine
But glide in regal zephyrs of warmth and breeze
Even aft out-door when birth of winter by happenstance
Shall my summer dawn in greenly gaits of pomp and chance?
No tepid of scarlet bile
Shall switch my yonder mile
Or thievish struts on liquefacted hopes
Thaw me in plastic infernos of dark and cold
…thralled by baleful bouts
…worn of forlorn fights
…blinded by sourceless lights
Ebbs and flow shall belch their strife
And then,
Life shall have life!