From whence come now these fragrant winds
bestirring hope? Who gently sends
such breathings full of whispered words
upon which dance the joyous birds?
What phlox and wildwood roses fair
with thyme and trillium scent the air
of sylvan hallways green and cool?
What shaking leaves and shining pool
charm these woodlands all the day
and countless troubled thoughts allay?
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Flight of the Automatons
from The Annals of the Peacemonger
Barl Xavier Amborn, Official Chronicler (9591 - 9673 A.D.)
Like bees from a hive, they dispersed
from Old Earth throughout the universe
in their cursed sky-train caravans,
and would have passed even into the Beyond.
For the universe, vast as it is, has an end at last;
it is as a bubble suspended within a great fire,
a raging and undying fire, infinite indeed.
They have pressed their faces as to a window
against the outermost edge of the universe
and have peered into that uncreated flame -
and quaked when they have quaked at nothing else.
Barl Xavier Amborn, Official Chronicler (9591 - 9673 A.D.)
Like bees from a hive, they dispersed
from Old Earth throughout the universe
in their cursed sky-train caravans,
and would have passed even into the Beyond.
For the universe, vast as it is, has an end at last;
it is as a bubble suspended within a great fire,
a raging and undying fire, infinite indeed.
They have pressed their faces as to a window
against the outermost edge of the universe
and have peered into that uncreated flame -
and quaked when they have quaked at nothing else.
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