sequential creation

…
I,  
I.   
I am.  
I am  here, 
I am here, again.
I am here again, for your love…

Rising now sowing, in the  birth of your love  once  more;
And in the  rising and the sowing,  of your cycle  of birth  to be;
We rest in soft quakes.

 Wrestling with  tumult and passion;  Writhing  with  shudders and  
soft  murmurs.  Fighting  for  life  against the  thirsts

of  Waking, dreaming , flying and seeking ; Staking  and screaming,
  thumping and taking.  Giving ,  getting,  and  then  receiving;
Blooding , letting and then forgetting;
Twisting,  then turning and finally  burning.

And  from this rising sequence  of  a pure  design
And in the falling of those  ages  past
Comes  adolescence, and sparks  of  life’s  light eyes.
But that  soon passes  to black empty  sockets ,
That mock  the spatial with  a  mere mortal mind
And  the  arrogance of individual  intellect .
But this passes  too, and with  that change, rises
Times strokes  upon  a  near  whispered  hinted  echo. 

For  life rises  to a ruddy  shining  orb,  
The  birth pangs  bite  the  crusted  earth in a scream;
in  cycles of circles spiral in a complex scheme.  
Here, time  sifts  her fingers  through  a  wild river’s  spine,
To force seeds up,  that  then  burst  along skirted   tracks;  
That grow in whorls,  that flow  from a  squall in murmurs,
To rise, in slow steps, from the shudder of creation,
where beast’s, whose shadow rises;  for a short  time:
That then thus returns,  in a step  of  recreation;
 In a  turning, returning and returning  once more,
 In  a life-cycle   that dances  to the one  chord
That lifts into a crescendo  and  then  slowly falls.
…
I,  
I. 
I am, 
I am  here,
I am here  again,
I am here again; for your love.

© ADH 2016