Out of Cosmogony
(that is, 2 poems from out of the arrangement of things, however fancifully)
The Place of Drones
Should someone set me
Atop
One tower or the other
Of the gate
On the bridge
That is not golden
Save in metaphor
Well
I better be an angel
Delighting in
The lack of restraint
Being so high
And so perilous
A perch
That I could slide
Down the cable
Or merely leap
Into the Lord’s
Good atmosphere
Between the particles
The humans
Tragically
Provide
And is this how
The angels
Who aren’t demons
Do it
Which is
To set themselves high
Or low
To have the better vantages
Scouting for assignments
Maybe the demons
Lie this way as well
With
Or without wings
Sacrificed
Mything Pages
And
Do I have
Anything for you
Today
How about
A word of God
That was a word
In the beginning
To make
Everything
Thus
Setting precedent
For spells
Inside fantastic
Stories
About making smaller
Things
Admittedly
Though wondrous
In eldritch hue
And timing
All the same
That
Someone said
Is the meaning behind miracles
The usual thing
And yet
The timing
Is extraordinary
Is saving
In fact
Of dwarves in trees
Or the royal child
Trapped in
The tower
Before
An evil pretender
With forces
Breaks into
The easily
Barricaded chamber
While such
Are stories
And creation
Is a story
Too
Recalling
That the myth
Is grounded
In the real
And our fantastic tellings
Overdone
Or undertoned
Are actual
When happening
Before becoming
Passages
And chapters
(John 1:1)
C L Couch
Photo by Syd Wachs on Unsplash
3 poems and each might stand (I hope) though together indicate a consequential process
What It Takes
The clock
Caught my attention
Because the hour
Had just turned
I prayed
Some praise
Some gratitude
Confession
Both for what I did
And what I should have done
An asking
Words about love
More thanks
A kind of pledge
About doing better
Then
Amen
I prayed what I meant
To pray
And looked up
Caught by the clock again
Four minutes
Four minutes
Maybe a hundred words
Out of this hour
And this day
Of such greater length
God willing
Imbalanced
I know
Terrible things have happened
In the past
And in the present
And we could guess into the future
But we’re taken up with
Wounds
And hunger
Inside ruins
Newly made
And if we could only keen
For natural disasters
Eruptions
Other explosions
Fires we say that rage
Winter storms
With hail
Sudden deprivations
From what developed
Unexpectedly
Then fell
Or rose upon us
Destroyed some of part of us
And will try for more next
Time
And time again
We could devote our science
And our military
Toward prevention
Preparation
Rescue
Restoration
And it would be hard
And often would be sad
And worse in tragedy that
Tears at us
As wars compounded
And the crimes we make
Tear at us
Even deeply
More bloodied
Threatening to take out
All the vital things
That make us
Us
The awfulness of now
And how we do things
Though not everything
Revealing
Promise
In an hour of today
When we let the fields and towns
By plan or by surprise
Be silent
And then we let in
Aid
Or help each other
Anyway
There’s hope in us
You see
Some want annihilation
Crazily
Some go for anarchy
Alike
And some are merely profiteering
On which side
Every side
That buys
But there’s that part
That quiet part
That then protests
That stands in front of weapons
Without weapons
Teaching us
Reminding us
Of how to stand
And how to act
To give ourselves a chance
All of us
The human race
To be
Simply to be
And then do better
With better
Vital
Parts of us
Don’t Forget the Two Parts Out of Three
Then
Or in the midst of it
There’s time
And willingness
To play
Even on a square we find
And sticks
And fashioning round things
For our
Projectiles
Or with time
We go to our closets
Root around
And
(funny)
Root for roots
The ancient games
With gloves and such
We used to play
And might not fit
But we’ll use
Something
And we’ll recreate
Which also might recall
How we had been made
To work
To play
To rest
The first
Time with
Our families
Or friends we met as children
On the street
(urban
suburban
sural)
And then picked up
The games
And rested after
In the shade
And then
Took jobs
And thought the rest
Unnecessary
Even rest
(in the shade)
Though we can have that
Now again
And should
C L Couch
Photo by Callum Hill on Unsplash
Poor (not as in bad but as in not having) Prayer, Real Prayer—2 poem-prayers
Poor Prayer
Dear God
I’m too pent up
And that’s not healthy
I’m also poor
And could not buy my way
Out of anything
Or even have
The coat I want
Care for my feet
Or shoes
Though you gave me
What you gave me
And keep giving me
Though I’m uncertain
What that is
Not doubtful
But uncertain
For somehow
I know things
A few things
Anyway
But not enough
For sureness
As I breathe
And as I think
And as I move
At last
Into the day
I do understand
You give
With or without expectation
Or do I simply manage
Through the hours
As I may
As I can
With what I have
And like the other poor
With what I must say
I don’t have
Real Prayer
Sigh
What I’m blessed
I do not know
There’s the morning sun
Yellow on green
And branches
Is that
Are these
Gifting for me
Because I’m the only one
Looking out these panes
At this time
Or is there more
Or less
And how are we blessed
Anyway
Not through things
Through gilded anything
(I pause
to drink
and honestly
am grateful for the drink
against the times
that poverty
or sickness
kept coffee from
me)
Or property
That is the Earth’s
Though we believe we’re claimants
Well
The wealthy
Or the mortgage-ridden do
Or could
(I’m not sure
how much possessiveness
they feel)
So what is ours
And what are we blessed with
From your hand
And your say-so
Might we own
Pieces
Of a whole
Or simply lent them
And then leave them
Which seems
The wider lesson
From the form
That living takes
And then
What do you want us
To do
In this next hour
And day
And the life
As a campaign
But to do
Justice
Says your book
And to walk humbly
By the way
And what is that
Are these
Except we know a code
Delivered from a mountain
While we waited
By dancing
Before idols
Though we could
Dance for justice
And humility
I suppose
And do you think
Would you approve
And
Allow for our confusion
Our mistakes
Even our flaws
Until we get them right
Which might
Take all our mortality
Of energy and time
Though
As a God
You will stay with us
I suppose
Even a judge
Should have to watch
And listen
Before judging
Well
I know there’s love in there
Forfending errors
Allowing for the pardoning
Of sins
And moving on
With you
Further abstractly
Farther even physically
On Earth
And in the universe
We observe
And only push our pins
Into
So love us as we move
And when we’re still
Even remembering
Our virtues
Or our lack thereof for pardon
Then to set us on our way
Or leave us to it
As we may
And bidden
You’ll be with us
Ornery
Obstinate
Aggrieved
Trying again
Amen
C L Couch
Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash
(the thing about an archway is that you go through it—CLC)
poems about life together
regardless
sad programs
about
the dying animals
with sad
commercials about
giving money
to save
the dying animals
and if we’re good
there will be t-shirts in
the package
with
some photographs
and some rhetoric
please
to send some more
sigh
and this is
Saturday
and sometimes throughout
the day
or at night
when I am done
with the workday
or week
and it seems
I’ve nothing left
to give
for service
or for play
and shall I find it in myself
to give some
more
and then some
more
well
why not
it’s only interactions
with a service
and the donations go
automatic
in the timeframe
I approve
and maybe
we could
do this together
as
you know
a project
or something passing by
over time
to be reminded of
and how
small
even accumulated
was this kind
of giving
then there’s an hour
two hours
a few hours
to go into town
to serve somewhere
because
what is required
is what we know already
how to do
and also
how to smile
how to say
hello
and then
here you go
please enjoy
a gambol
a gambol
is a walk
that is playful
sometimes what
a mountain goat
or sheep
might do
upon the mountain
and shall I
gambol
somewhere
on this weekend
day
or take a drive to nowhere
letting the playfulness
be mental
and emotional
(while
driving carefully)
playfully
in my head
or chest
might count for a gambol
too
for someone keeping score
or for
without a record
simply to have
the play
beside the work
don’t worry
deserving
simply go
and shall we
collaborate
into companionship
to go
out there
in here
companionable
and when we return
we could enjoy
some silent company
with small words
in between
the kind the authors call
companionable
I shall enjoy
companionable silence
if you are of a mind
and will
to join me
in the same
I don’t there are cues
but time will tell
(and now we know
what that means)
let’s sit
or do small chores
with a glass of wine
nearby
or tea
poured into
carryable cups
and let the hour
be an hour
without counting
or whatever time it
takes
to rest inside the mind
and in the seat
where classics say
we build up
and make sense of
our emotions
time passes
easy love
the kind that lasts
through jumpy times
or even
catastrophic
should the phone ring
or something on the news
require our rising
on the inside and outside
to take on
together
built on the companionship
built in the quiet
times
and everything unworldly
together
maybe not the end of day
and then we rest
maybe tired
maybe worried
maybe
we need
to talk some
more about
what’s going on
inside our lives
even the world
at large
to parse the day
and yet not
box
anything
but leave the thoughts
and our emotions
even will
to go organically
to set priorities
through the life-sense
and what’s important
that we built
and yes
together
epilogue
straightforward?
saccharine?
more metaphors?
some
jaundice
for what we consider
the infection
of reality?
I don’t know
what’s real?
what is truth
to modern
governors
and Pilates?
well
give it a go
or not
I think we’ll only find
a truth that lasts
and a reality to bear
when somehow
we work it out
as we
(and yes
too easy the
transition)
whee
don’t forget
to play
without humor
and joy
it’s hard to work out
life’s
priorities
even its reasons
without
some
together
c l couch
photo by Dan Cristian Pădureț on Unsplash
Mandatum Thursday
(in four parts)
Love-In
A new command
Not with
Exception
For a new campaign
In a self-serving
Brutal world
Plutarchy
Oligarchy
And other -archys ruling
Into strategic sets of rules
That will not stave off
Slaughter
And
Diaspora
When the time comes
For these
With the destruction of the temple
Made of stone
While the prophecies
We have
Seem to outpace
Themselves
But this temple
And each temple here
For bodies
In which the spirit of the Lord
Shall dwell
And dwells now
Without the naming
Of the flames
In scores of days
We are gathered
And I give you orders
That you
Not rule the world
But that
You love each other
There
That’s it
We’ve had our meal together
Soon one of you will leave
Then more of us
To pray
Inside a garden
While the plots unwind themselves
At last
And the tragedies
Play out
And you are scattered as a force
Then return
To each other
And your families
And friends
For where else
And to whom else
Shall you go
My having gone away
As I predicted
To you
More than once
Yes
Peter
I mean you
Though you will come with me
In an ersatz fashion
For a while
Longer
And to all of you
I say
As a new commandment
Though it is not one of the ten
Per se
And yet the reason for all these
And hardly new
But newly given you
Especially due to
The days
We live in
Now
Before the last
Yes
Love God
And each other
Love me
Please
As I love you
And the rest
Though we might fall away
Will work
Will
Last
Until we know each other
Even better
After
The coming hours
And
Days
Word to the Wise
You’d think
He would have told us
Something else
Something useful
For our lives
And for the plans
We made
Together
You’d think
He’d have a strategy
After that
Triumph in the city
While keeping the Sanhedrin
On the ropes
And even the Romans
Are guessing
Who we are
And what we want
When we say
It’s not sedition
But
Respect
For everyone
Lifting up the child
Rescuing the woman
Even speaking with the women
About doctrine
We argued
About who is first
When
Of course
We knew
We were fighting for lieutenants
And seating places
Close to him
And then
He put us in our places
Acknowledging
Our equanimity
And status
Being equals
Meaning
Of course
We all are generals
In the new campaign
To rise
And to negotiate
From strength
With all the powers
Of the world
The forces in the city
Everything that waits
As armies
Just outside the gates
Or training
In the countryside
Shall come to us
While we march out
And up
To take the land
And everything God made
And all that he commanded
Of people
And the water
And all the Earth
That
We shall share
Of course
In equal parts
Something like a legion
Under each of us
Of fighters
Who shall never tire
For being right
At last
Having the perfect leadership
At last
And then
He gives us orders
After supper
Calling us to love
Demanding it
In fact
And what kind
Of armoring
Is that
Gardening
Here I am
They do not understand
They are tired
They rest
They sleep
I can’t blame them
In a worldly way
Even though
I need them
Wakefully
And ready
For what’s next
And what’s next
But
Violence
And shame
Torn clothing
And spilled blood
From the slicing
Of my flesh
And the final
Ignominy
Death
In that terrible
Criminal
Way
And must I go
Could not we stay
And
Talk
And I could have some wine
Sweet for sustenance
Rather than gall
That shall only help
My breath
To leave my body
After
It’s perched
Upon that hill
That shall split
And show the maw of hell
Beneath
Dear God
Keep me from this
Keep me
From that
We know you can do it
There must be
Another way
Why must all end
In bitterness
The dust of death
Only a tomb
At most
And not this kindly place
To rest
But
You are God
You are commander
You are parent
You are friend
You are me
And with the other
Helping
We three must manage
All the hours
To come
They’re even on the way
Because now is the end
Of this hour
For me to ask
And you refuse
And we go on
Toward the thing
The human part of us
Has not experienced
Not emptied
Of ourselves
The last surprise
And awful
Time to go down
As they are here
With the glee of hell
Behind them
Malchus
There had to be
One final act of healing
Since all
Malchus was doing
Was to obey
An earthly master
Not having met him earlier
For all
He might have heard
And then to bleed
Because of that
Disciple
Of the lord of miracles
And teaching
So healing at last
One final
Astonishment
Before the world closes over
And he is away
Certainly by orders
Strategy
Of lies
Never to return to us
On the Earth
We know
Again
C L Couch
Photo by Zoelle Suo on Unsplash
more pamphleteering
(3 poems, rebel with a pause or as the cat might say a paws)
Flawed
There are days
When there are
Nothing
But flaws
Maybe the kind of
Flaws
That might be fixed
Or re-trained
Or re-adjusted
Somehow
Or they are flaws
The kind
That remain
About which there is
No hope of changing into
Something good
Or even
Little more
Than barely
Tolerable
The cracks in the walls
And maybe
The foundation
The leaks
In the roof
As well
With divots in the yard
And even cuteness
In the squirrels
Is mollified
By the way they overrun
The feeder
Set
You know
For birds
The wider spaces
Might be grand
The siding
And the brickwork
Nearly perfect
And all the paint inside
Looks
Pretty good
Though what we see
Is the crack
That happened because
Things that have been around
For a while
Develop lines
And sometimes
The lines
Widen
Not minimized
To their resemblance
Of a mischievous
Stream
Upon a map
You might say
Well
It’s all just attitude
Isn’t it
And I have to say
And maybe anyone whose
Flaws are
Evident
Must say
Nope
The flaws are there
They’re real
And they’re lasting
Although
You’re right
There is an attitude
Over
Which to consider more
And
Or course
How to deal with what there is
The flaws that threaten
Should be addressed
Do-it-yourself
(-myself)
And/or
(preferably and)
Done-by-others
To be fixed
Enough
For more than jazz
For life outside
The venue
In the sudden daylight
Too
Some lines
And cracks remain
Which is real
For they are real
Endurable
Even considerable signs
Of endurance
Even achievement
And attraction
As what is
Structure
Shall
Last longer
Attraction
If we understood
That certain flaws are fine
(beyond
fine lines)
And it’s all right
And even good
They last
As if to say
In an encounter
To oneself
This place does not have perfection
As agenda
This place
Is grand with age
This place is welcome
This place
Is home
Denizen
The word
Today
Like the old game
Is
What shall it be
Watermelon
Lamp
Radio
Nostalgia
Love
Intransigence
Toward love
Why don’t we love
Ennui
Fright
Movie
Safety
Home
And are we safe at home
(another game)
And
Well
It’s relative
Against
A dying planet
And those who away
Who
Looking in
Might say
This is
Such a resource
Such an opportunity
Why did they let it go
So badly
There are wars
And also there is
Nature
Aggravated
By themselves
To greater storms
And harsher seasons
So far from
Design
That yet is evident
Maybe we should take over
Maybe we could help them
Save themselves
From of course
Themselves
For we know how this goes
So it went with us
Before the next-to-last crisis
Set us on
The edge
And all we could do
Then
Was try to find a way
To widen the edge
And then
If we could
Build back from either side
Because there was
Our abyss
Of destruction
All around
And that’s it
Isn’t it
We survived
And got
To this place
Where we are here
Cleanly
And with confidence
Today
At home
And in our orbits
Far beyond
And we must leave
These to it
To their Earth
And come back in a while
Should there be
Some unity
And health in unity
To have a planet
Have a world
Wet with life
And creatures
Green
And blue again
As it seems now
But it is pushed
They push it
Their own world
Toward something like
The line
We knew so well
Grind
(for the first day of spring in these parts)
Now it’s a cold
Day
Because we’re into spring
Last week
It was warm
While winter breathed
Hot upon the leaves
And sleeping
Lawn
Beneath
Topsy-turvy
Then
In fact
He says
At noon
It will be colder
Coming days
Sigh
When to plant
When to turn
When
To work
To play
To dance
What should lie fallow
Really should
For variegated futures
In the land
Although
We need what’s planted
Every day
Not merely
Grocery-store expectation
Anymore (that
does not
recognize the seasons
when the berries
or the lettuce
might be ready)
but the need
To feed our animals
To weave our clothing
Out of wool
Even to work the leather
And best-guess
Nutrients
And timing
Year-round
Of course
To feed our children
On our farm
And in the city
And all over
In the wilderness
Made worse
(beyond appreciation
in and of itself)
By droughts
And wars
We’ve heard of
And it’s a guess
But I think it the way
We have them that
The cows
Need milking
Every day
And there’s that magic
In the harvest
(unreal)
That should happen every day
Releasing everything
We want
That we want
To believe
Is always
(anymore)
Fairly gathered in
A world of expectations
Fiercely specific
On a faded Earth
Running out of time
If
We’re not careful
And
We’re not careful
C L Couch
Photo by Yuri Malishenko on Unsplash
a little chappy-book of poems
Anyday Fog
Fog
Fog today
A Dickensian lesson
(get started
on Bleak House)
To know
That like the existence
And the movement of the fog
There is connection
Between all of us
Regardless of economy
Or privilege
Or barriers
Presumed
That as far as the single race goes on
Do not stand
Aloof
We are connected
That is the way of things
Do not forget
But relish in it
The reality
And all the possibilities
Together
Or stay apart
Behind our barriers
So-called
To let the fog move
Inimically
Exuding fear and guilt
As we forbid ourselves from
Seeing
(without eyes)
And acknowledging each other
The fog connection
Irony
For there it is
Well
Then let
The better lesson of
The real thing
To a greater thing
Take over
All our humanhood
That should lower unnecessary things
In the way
Then let in
The light
(more than light)
Too Easy
Blindness
Blindness chosen
Not the sense
But the lifestyle
Even
A cause
That in the dark
We shall strike
And have our way
Forgetting
(among other things)
The anthologized
“Dover Beach” that
First-year students
Are foisted
To read
With the “ignorant armies”
In the night
That clash
Who wins
Who loses
No one knows
Except that blows are struck
And there is wounding
And humanity destroyed
By degree
Those who are blind
For real
Know the sacrifice
And the ridiculousness
In selecting darkness as
The quality
For sight
And shall we choose
To be ignorant of each other
Shall we fight
From distances too great
To know much beyond
The switch
Or the button
We could draw near each other
Rather
Withholding our destroying
Part
To leave the great part
Of curiosity
And even peace
Let go
Learn who is my neighbor
On the planet
How might the Earth do better
If we re-trained ourselves
For nature
The greater challenge
To
Like military
Pull back the extremes
To repair
Then prepare
For what’s next
To know
Who is next door
Not to pry
Or lord
Or anything overlording
Or pervasive
To learn each other
As we are
Even the agendas
Learning how to speak
To listen more
And to understand
(lessons in language
might be
the first thing)
Allowing curiosity
To be positive regard
Respect
The better agenda
Knowing which virtues to use
To influence
And which to use to
Be changed by
As we grow
In and with
Those we have relegated to
The other
As an objective distinction
(no such thing)
To render targets
Rather
Than people
Simply put
Do not destroy the world
That’s rather stupid
But put down the guns
(the buttons and the switches)
Find food
And drink
And other fixing things
With which
To approach
Nourish
And give the world
What is the real
Fighting chance
Family Game Night
(we can do it)
No one wins
No one loses
Leave that to
Real games
And remember to embrace
Congratulate
Game-winners
While in the world
We do better
With nothing like a game
At stake
But how we live
Together
Make enough
The base for everyone
Then all we reach for
After that
In other words
Feed everyone
Because
We can do it
(Rosie
says
we can)
Provide everyone
With something safe
To drink
Shelter and the opportunity
For education
Of ourselves
And the world
The unpeated past
The glories in the present
(let science say
amen)
Maybe
Remembering
The God who made
Everything
Is waiting
Withholding Armageddon
‘Til there’s faith
In the outcome
For those who choose
To care
And believe
In the world
And the living
Selves
And neighbors
It’s simply
Really
Embrace good
Eschew evil
Learning the two
More how to build
Rather than
Destroy
It’s easy
Each can prosper
After all are well
In fact
Prosperity
Will grow
While all are fed
And drinked
Have shelter
And the means
For education
Will the problems end
No way
But we’ll have a go
With advancements and
With possibilities
Which is
The world growing
Which is how it was
And how
It should be
By us
Eden
With the walls let down
The best Eden we can make
Yes
For billions
Living well
And each other
Has a chance
To go from there
To growth
To gold
Whatever might seem good
Without extremes
Of anarchy or monarchy
Rule one by one
And by assembly
Which is how
The world’s growing
(at its best)
Anyway
Grow on
Absent Lion
(not that there’s climate change)
Well
Winter’s MidAtlantic
Ended
Seventy
In western parts
So where’s
The lion
Seems not
To have arrived
There’s always
Aslan
For always good
A sign
Of faithfulness
And power
In faithfulness
There are other lions
Some as
Metaphors
Others in fact
Don’t go
To meet upfront
The real ones
For their strength
Is in
Predation
It’s the qualities
And made-up stuff
That make
The lion
Useful
(leave the real ones
out there)
As we can make
The lamb
Render its own qualities
For our own good
And at least
In these parts
Earlier
In March
What’s Blue Is Blue
Maybe this is all
I can do
For now
Write against the blue
Until
The retinas
And other parts can’t take it
Then leave
The machine alone
And even
Wonder
How we do this
All
The time
Go see
The eye doctor
Maybe she
Will know
What is healthy
What is useful
What is
Disciplined
For health and
Productivity
To ease the headaches
And the
Stress
Maybe from blues
Though maybe
I need to play the blues
C L Couch
Photo by Vestfoldmuseene on Unsplash
2 poems kind of about brokenness (sorry)
When the Circle’s Not Unbroken
The Lord
Invites us
To the circle
Or the square
Or something oblong
Maybe
Rhomboid
To something
Maybe broken
For design
Or due to
Some experience
That seems
To break up everything
Fear
And anger
Breaking out
Without
The lines
To keep it in
To keep what might be loved
Therein
Though love remains
In the fragments
The Lord
Cares for us in these
And if the situation
Backs in
From extreme
The parts
Maybe come together
In a new shape
If partial
While we gesture
Talk
And work on fixing
For a while
Call it prayer
Call it Bible study
Call it therapy
Or medication
Every means
That helps
In measured
Dosage
And discretion
‘Til something like
Our circle
Even as
Something else
Shall come together
Maybe with a new
Amen
March on Two Left Feet
(or right)
The fifth already
Seems like
March is
The right name
The lion hasn’t really
Come
Though are there hints
Of lambs
Is a fair question
It’s in-between
A kind of academic
Purgatory
While the sky
And Earth
Decide
To fix the things
From winter
Into spring
We hope
The flowers undeceived
The planting happen
In its own
Good timing
That might have to change
Or not
Should good-guessing be required
By planters
Of all kinds
Who typically
Are breathing through
Northeastern cold
While waiting
For green seasons
To begin
C L Couch
Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash
2 poems about the ending, the beginning
Panoply
I was thinking
Of the stars
In the Chronicles of Narnia
The stars
Who are people
Who had arrived here
Long ago
And the people-stars
Who will descend
In the last
Hours
A star
A sun
With a personality
Like the face
By Georges Méliès
For the moon
Except
The stars-as-people
Won’t have spaceships
In their left eyes
I guess
We have anthropomorphized
Everything that’s
Up there
And to place them up
When they
Are all around
A stellar populace
And are the comets missiles
Taking centuries to land
Because a century
To stars
Is an age of dinosaurs
On Earth
A stellar war
An interstellar war
With weapons
So slow
And more rarely hitting targets
As the universe has settled
That the gods of war
Must be red
In their frustration
For the cosmos
Clearly gives it up
No interest
In who wins
The interest is in
Sentience now
Like theirs
Worlds have it
And the possibilities
As life is
Sent around
First as microbes
Then support for all the lifeforms
As they grow
A day
An age
Inhabit all the Earth
As each Earth was made
Earthstruck
Early
Sun is prepping
Not appearing
Yet
Moon is tired
From its performing
Ready to set
To rest for a while
The stars in their courses
Seem confident
I think they will stay there
For a while
An age or more
Perhaps
An eon
If that’s longer
Then to fall
One by one
Onto the Earth
Of an apocalypse
Or so our own myth
Goes
And does the Earth expand
To catch the stars
Or will the stars
Actually send meteors
As
Representatives
Ahead of
Armageddon
How real is it all
All the blood
From the sky
And on the planet
Maybe
All of it shall happen
As depicted
And shall the saved
Be gone by then
Perhaps
Perhaps
Some of us must wait
Through tribulation
To send
The message
While there’s time
Even through the
Revelation horrors
Hurry up
Believe
More evidence around you
And the world is breaking up
Though there’s still time
Still pushing your agendas
Give them up
It’s over
But something new
And wonderful
Is coming
You shouldn’t want
To miss it
C L Couch
Ramandu (“star at rest”) and the daughter of Ramandu (no name given for her, though in the stories she is active) from The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis
Photo by Alex Shuper on Unsplash
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