He who learns must suffer, and, even in our sleep, pain that we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. - Aeschylus

Sunday, July 10, 2016

The River of Love: Part II

The desert hums with the struggling of arid life,
a vast ocean of sand burning in the day's heat,
and the scorpion's tail stings like a blunted knife,
the healing river cleansing our wounds so sweaty.

The canyon echoes with the rushing river's sound,
a soft knife carving a way through the jagged earth,
and the air fills with mist above eroding ground,
the rainbows forming and dying like a child's mirth.

The delta pours into the swamp's winding bayous,
a wetland made by the river's flooding each year,
and the fish are thriving amidst the willow's roots,
the gifts of love's living waters constantly near.

The ocean swallows the floating dirt and debris,
a vast expanse suspending the decay and death,
and the immense cosmos of love cleaning slowly,
the breakers washing all unloving back to earth.

The air carries the waves up to the falling skies,
a raincloud born of the steaming sea to us brings,
and the rain of love falling as thirsty earth dries,
the risen groundwater feeding anew the springs.

Note:  Photo credit goes to me.  In this sequel to a previous poem I'm using the same typical devices like a four-line stanza, end rhyme, start rhyme, internal rhyme, and natural imagery.  I tried to stick to a 12-syllable count for each line.  The poem is about our journey through the spiritual desert which culminates in reaching the fullness of love, represented by the ocean.  The ocean of God's love for us permeates the atmosphere of all of existence and rains down again to become part of the groundwater and bubble up from the mountaintop spring once again.

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