An Orchard, A Gale, A Rose in Ruins

It amazes me
On the days of minor keys-
Of travelling andante
Beyond middle seas
How so many continue
Against tide and tow,
Through gust and gale,
Past all they know
Or wish to know
Deeper into the ache
How they take the storm
They cannot shake
Riding the billows
To their own natural causes
When an artificial respite
Rife with indelicate clauses
Closes the current.

Our lives are tossed
In tremulous tenderness
Amongst the ruins of beauty
The slender bliss
Of reminiscing spent sonnets
Spinning into requiem
And I fear the lyrics
Filling the symposium
May shorten a stay.
We weep at the end
For all the strokes misplaced
The brokenness we sinned
Against each other, against beauty,
We watch the shadows
Grope the ruins
An orchard fallow-
We feel the betrayal.

It amazes me,
The single petal drifting to earth
Dying in desperate breaths
Of beauty, tangled in birth
On its way to the grave
Delicate, intricate, fragile
A vulnerable masterpiece
Falling gradually
To sudden rest:
Eternal consummate sleep.
Even the blossom’s innocence
Finds no safe keep
In the palm of shadows
Will beauty inhale?
I yearn that she stretch awake
Shushing the gale
That wrecks me

Awaken and reign
in indestructible
and exquisite frailty.