Saturday, May 10, 2014

Descent

    
Descent  
               
When the wind has fallen quiet,
You can look out at the sky,
You can see the fires celestial,
As they’re burning, up on high.

When the dawn is still a whisper,
You can wake, within your tent.
You can shiver and then bundle,
On your downward trek, intent.

Where the peaks rise up in splendor,
Where no eagles dare to soar,
In that white and barren fastness,
You can trek across the snow.

In the valley, by the glacier,
Where the ice is heaped and strewn,
You can breathe a little easy
And can feel the warmth of noon.

Where the glacier spawns the river,
You can drink from crystal streams.
You can walk on mountain pastures
And be lost in happy dreams.

Where the river roars down canyons,
Where the raging waters flow,
You can listen to that roaring,
And the sound, primeval, know.

In the forests of the foothills,
You can hear the tiger growl.
You can glimpse the deer and otters
And the sudden flights of fowl.

Where the hills gave way to corn fields,
Where the sky is smiling wide,
You can row upon the river.
With the current, you can ride.

In the flatlands of the delta,
Where the crops are growing green,
You can see the rice-fields shimmer
In the afternoons serene.

In the shade, among the fruit trees,
With their fragrance in the air,
You can while away the noontimes,
Or at insects, sit and stare.

You can fish in tranquil waters,
You can bathe in morning’s light.
You can watch the cows at sunsets,
And in children’s smiles delight.

You can travel to the outskirts
Of the city and its grime.
You can labor in its alleys,
And be old before your time.

You can leave at last the city,
On the river, flowing strong.
You can watch the boatmen rowing,
Catch the lilting of their song.

Where the river meets the ocean
And the vistas open wide,
You can see the sea-gulls wheeling,
You can feel the turning tide.

In the endlessness of ocean,
Where the land is lost to sight,
You can drift, across the sunset,
To the starry, starry night…

Let the ones, who are ascending,
Plant their puny flags on peaks.
To the one, who is descending,
They should listen, when he speaks…

2014 May 9th, Friday, 11:55 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
   

No comments: