The Precious Purchase That Bears Us All
The moment is at its nexus.
When the rain whispers down deep
into the bones of the curled oak bark
the moment is at its nexus.
The water dances and taps into
gentle gaps in the ground cradle,
steeping a miracle from the mud womb.
Vassal vessel, its armor vexed to opening
by the precious purchase that bears us all
toward the blinding mystery and majesty
of the sacred lamped surface.
The testament seed shells now spent,
slip down to the soil, holding silent,
resting on their turtled backs
bearing witness to the softing, luscious bend
of the alabaster stem as it emerges and ascends,
two green hallowed hands unfurl,
palms open in pious appeal,
to the eternal azure sprawl.
About the Creator
John R. Godwin
Sifting daily through the clutter of my mind trying to create something beautiful.
Keep reading
More stories from John R. Godwin and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Irony of Flying While We Bomb the "World's Greatest Terror Regime"
Ah, the irony of flying at this moment in time as the United States is simultaneously bombing Iran - the nation officials have insisted for decades is "The World's Greatest Terror Regime" - while the TSA is on a go-slow, courtesy of a funding squeeze that's left its officers unpaid, quitting in droves, and turning checkpoints into something like slow-moving bread lines.
By Scott Christenson🌴4 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
"two green hallowed hands unfurl, palms open in pious appeal, to the eternal azure sprawl." Those lines were soooo creatively beautiful! Loved your poem so much!